


I Know The Way Your Skin Feels On My Collarbones

by TheGirlWithTheKite



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Auguste lives fight me, Betrothed au, Just a get together fic where Damen is betrothed to Laurent, Kastor doesn't plot a coup, M/M, mentions of mpreg, okay maybe some angst, the Regent isn't in this fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-06-08 15:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15246306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlWithTheKite/pseuds/TheGirlWithTheKite
Summary: It's Autumn when the messenger arrives in Ios bearing the proposal from the King of Vere.It's Spring when the Akielon Royal family comes to Delpha to sign the betrothal contract.Seven years of letters, growing up, moving on, and falling in love with words written in the Prince's hand but only remembering the hate in his blue eyes.Betrothal AU





	1. I want you in my sleep and in my dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first Captive Prince fic, and I've really wanted to see/write a proper Betrothal AU. A/B/O seem to make the most sense, as a marriage between the two kingdoms would have to be fruitful beyond just a dowry and political ties.  
> I have a general idea of where this fic is going, and have the first half or so outlined so hopefully I don't lose too much momentum!
> 
> Fic Title from "Bottom" by McAfferty  
> Chapter title from "Edward 40hands" by Mom Jeans.

 

_Spring_

The Royal Parade felt like a funeral dirge. Prince Damianos felt dread in every ounce of his body. This was the farthest north Damen had been; Delpha had always felt like a far off land. One that his father ranted and plotted on many times.

And now they were there.

In peace.

For Damen was to become betrothed to the youngest Veretian prince.

Prince Laurent.

Damen had just a name, but he could fill in the rest. He had seen the official portraits of the other royals—all blondes: the King and Crown Prince with strong jaws and brows, the Queen with delicate features. The young prince was just a babe in the portrait, with a crop of blonde locks and round features. It would be difficult to guess what features would become prominent.

As the Marlas fort grew on the horizon, Damen reflected on that day just a few months before that changed everything.

He had heard news that a Veretian royal messenger had come to the palace, with important documents to be delivered to King Theomedes. Damen was not privy yet to council meetings, but he knew if it regarded him a slave would fetch him. But what would a Veretian royal messenger have to do with him?

Apparently everything.

It had been midday, and Damen was out under the high sun. Sweat rolling down his back, sword heavy in his hands.

When he had looked up at a break, it was not a slave his eyes landed on, but on his brother Kastor.

Kastor whose face set in grim glee, the same way he looked when he was facing down an enemy in battle.

It was a betrothal offer.

Sent from King Aleron. Extending a peace treaty to Akielos. One that hinged on the Alpha Akielon prince marrying Vere’s Omega prince.

A prince who had just presented as an Omega.

A prince who was twelve.

The trip that the Akielon royal family made to Vere was one to just accept the betrothal, the actual marriage would not take place until after Prince Laurent came of age. Customs in Vere did not find one to be of age until their twentieth nameday, which was eight years off.

Eight years of being betrothed to a snake in the making.

Damen clench his jaw and wrapped his traveling cloak tighter around his body. Marlas was getting closer on the horizon. He could start to make out shapes of figures. Damen watched the distant gate open fully to let in their parade. He kept his eyes on the fort, and not on the peasants which surrounded the road.

His Veretian was strong enough to know that there was mix of joyous and hateful shouts.

They rode through the gates, and Damen’s eyes—after looking at the garish architecture—went immediately to the raised dias. There stood three of the royals.

King Aleron, his silvered hair hanging straight in contrast to the white and gold of his clothes. Every detail from the laces, to the brocade, to the embroidery was full of the colors and sense of wealth; royalty dripped from him. Prince Auguste stood on his right. His clothes a less complex version of his father’s, the main color being the deep blue associated with the crown prince. There was less embroidery, less brocade, less everything than his father. His deep golden hair was pulled back, where his father’s hung loose.

But once he looked at her, Damen could not look away from Queen Hennike. He had heard of her astonishing beauty, but he had also heard that about quite ugly royals before. Looking at Queen Hennike was like looking at a Goddess. But she was dressed as garrishly as her husband and son. Her light gold hair as piled high upon her head, with jewels placed about. The dress took up the space of three women, there was so much embroidery, beading, lace, ruffles. His eyes could not focus on more than one aspect, until his eyes landed on the exposed claim mark that the deep neckline exposed.

A jolt went through Damen, seeing such a private part of a person’s life so easily exposed. Gods, why did the Veretians have to dress like _that_.

He was going to have spend the rest of his life looking at Veretians. Damen had to stop his jaw from clenching again. He may be mad, but he was still a Prince and he wasn’t going to let another country’s royals see him falter.

“Our Brother Akielos,” King Aleron greeted them, his voice sharp and commanding.

“Our Brother Vere,” King Theomedes responded, his gruff battlefield voice echoing from utop his horse.

He easily dismounted from his gray stallion, before a footman could have even stepped toward him. Damen’s father was raised and bred for the battlefield and wasn’t about to show weakness in front of old enemies. Even if they were soon to be allies.

The two kings met at the edge of the dias, and clasped arms. Aleron in his opulence and Theomedes in his simplicity.

A simple white chiton under fresh leathers, the Akielon lion emblazoned upon his chest, his crimson cloak draping from his shoulders to his heels.

Where Aleron wore a large ornamented crown, Theomedes had the simple gold laurels to mark his status.

They unclasped their hands from the others’ arms.

King Theomedes raised one hand, and Damen took his signal to dismount from his own russet colored horse.

“We present Crown Prince Damianos,” Theomedes grasped Damen by his shoulder.

Damen leaned forward slightly, he was at high enough of rank he did not need to show more respect to a foreign sovereign. Even one who would eventually become his father in law.

Aleron gently raised his hand from his side, and Auguste and Hennike stepped forward.

“We present Queen Hennike and Crown Prince Auguste.”

They bowed with same inclination that Damen did.

Damen did not wonder at the lack of presence of Prince Laurent. The boy would be officially debuted at the feast that night, the first official meeting of the to-be-betrothed.

The thought that Damen was about to tie his life away to a boy, a twelve year old boy, one who was probably forced into this betrothal by his father’s council the same as Damen, made him sick to his stomach.

In Akielos, Omegas were not eligible to have to offer their hands in marriage until they were at least 16. Even the pleasure slaves were not given their first nights until after they reached that age.

Aleron and Theomedes continued on with their official royal pleasantries, Damen stewing in his thoughts but keeping his ear out to see if his response was ever needed.

It wasn’t.

And then they were dismissed to settle in their rooms and wash the road off of themselves.

Theomedes strode away, his fingers snapping in the air and his personal slaves coming to him to guide him to his room.

Hali, their estate steward, began shouting orders to have things moved out of wagons. Next to him stood a Veretian, probably Marlas’ own steward, with a scroll open that Hali was referencing.

One of Damen’s house slaves, Phokas, came forth. His head bowed, eyes trained to the ground. “Your highness, if you would so graciously let this one, I will guide you to your rooms.”

“Thank you, Phokas.”

He bowed even further, and Damen could spot a blush spreading on his tan skin. Damen had always made it a point to learn all of his personal slaves’ names and use them when it was best seen fit.

As Phokas led him into the fort, Damen could not help but wonder where his brother’s rooms would be. Kastor and Hypermenestra would be housed in the fort as well. His father had enough foresight to not include them in the official royal meeting, as it would not be beneficial to remind the Veretians that their Omega son would probably be one of many lovers that Damen would have. And that their children would not be the only ones of Damen’s lineage.

But, Theomedes would not leave his eldest son and his mistress back in Ios.

The inside of the fort was worse than the outside, colors and draperies and so so so many patterns decorated every surface.

The rooms to house Damen for their stay had obviously been somewhat stripped. He could tell from the way walls were bare of brash tapestries, but the rug on the floor was still overly decorated and all of the furnishings were carved into same shape. A knob could not just be a knob, but an animal’s head.

It was all so much.

It was giving Damen a headache.

He continued from the opening parkour into the sleeping chambers.

His slaves had come before him, and Damen could see his things placed on end of the bed, and he was sure if he opened the chest of drawers he would come across his clothes freshly tucked in.

Damen turned to Phokas, “I shall rest from our journey, and when I raise I will have a bath.”

Damen simply raised his arms, and Phokas began to unlace the leathers from Damen’s body. Next was removing the Lion crest from Damen’s shoulder, Phokas gently set it on the short table next to the bed. He then start to slip the hidden pins out of the chiton, it and the cloak fell to the floor. Phokas crouched down and began to unlace Damen’s sandals.

Once free, Damen stepped out of the pile of clothes and moved toward the bed.

He didn’t have to look to know that Phokas had picked up the discarded clothes. Damen’s head was already in the pillow when he heard the soft click of the door closing.

The bed was too soft.

 

Preparing for dinner was more of an ordeal than Damen was prepared for. He had been accustomed to preparing in Ios, with hot natural baths under the palace. He was used to wearing just simple, but still royal, clothing. Knowing that not all eyes would be on him, that the at royal feasts there were would be boisterous activity all around and guests would be more interested in their tablemates than what their royals were doing. Also, the royal table had more than just Damen and his father sitting at it.

But, tonight, in Marlas. That was not the case.

All of the guests would be staring at the royal table. Would be dissecting Damen’s interactions with the Prince. Damen had to be on his best behavior and look his best.

The white chiton he wore was immaculate, the linen pressed and spot free. The laces of his sandals wrapped around his calves in elgenance and symmetry. His red cloak fell from his shoulders and barely grazed the floor, secured to the chiton with the lion pendant. It shone in the firelight, the fresh polish giving it gleam and deepness.

One of his personal slaves had trimmed his hair, controlling the wild curls that liked to appear. His face was freshly shaven as well. Damen’s skin had softly scented oils massaged into it, his body hair smoothed down as well. He hated being primped and prepped like this.

It was spring, but in Marlas it felt like winter. The air was still crisp, the breeze had a biting edge to it, and there fires going in many of the rooms. Damen could feel goosebumps break out along his arms and legs as he strode down the hallways.

A set steps fell in line with him, just slightly back.

“Are you ready?”

Damen turned his head right and made eye contact with Nikandros, his best friend and right hand man. Damen smiled easily, he knew Nikandros wasn’t happy about this arrangement either.

“As ready as I'll ever be. I am about to be betrothed to a Veretian prince.”

Nikandros hummed lowly in response. They both had had many discussions about this in Ios, and they both knew that there were snakes listening everywhere.

“But, it will be good for the kingdoms, no?”

Damen sighed, “Yes, it will be good for the kingdoms.”

As they neared the banquet hall’s doors, Nikandros fell back. Taking the role of a shadow, a guard, protection. Not a friend, not an equal.

King Theomedes strode up to the door at the same time that Damen did.

He turned, his cloak rippling with the movement.

“Damianos.”

Damen dipped his head, “Father.”

Theomedes smiled, but his eyes were tight. Despite all but officially ordering Damen into this betrothal, the King was still worried for his youngest son.

“Remember, your mother and I were betrothed to strengthen our ties to Aegina. And look what came of that,” Theomedes’ eyes softened as he went along, “We created strength, and the kyros of Aegina comes yearly to our summer festivals. Before the marriage, we were lucky if the kyros’ son would even come. And you, my son, came from that betrothal. Akielos needs this, the way it needed my marriage to your mother. We must think of the people.”

Sometimes when Damen looked into his father’s eyes, Damen could feel the age difference between them. Theomedes had seen marriage as a business transaction that came with a possible chance for love.

Damen had never known his mother, he could only take his father’s word. But his father was right, he had to think of Akielos, think of his people. An alliance with Vere would provide strength to the border, and lend towards easing tensions between the two countries. The last harvest had been lean and the winter harsh.

But sometimes, Damen longed for the love that the bards sang of in their ballads. A love that was an enigmatic pull that bound two people together.

He just nodded to his father, “Yes, father.”

Theomedes nodded, then turned towards the doors fully and raised one hand.

The guards on either side of the doors pulled them open, and the noise of the full banquet hall poured forth. Across the hall, King Aleron stood at the head of the royal table—a curved piece of wood that wrapped easily around the edges of the raised dais it was sat upon.

“Our Brother Akielos,” Aleron called, raising his goblet and gesturing to Theomedes and Damen who made their way through the crowd.

“Our Brother Vere,” Theomedes responded, stepping around the table to his spot.

The Veretian royals sat in a different arrangement than when they stood when they greeted the Akielons. Aleron sat in the centermost chair, that was ornamented to designate his station. To his right sat Queen Hennike, and next to her sat Prince Auguste. And next to him was an empty seat, Damen’s eyes did not linger too long. He knew that Prince Laurent would be officially introduced to the court after Damen and Theomedes were seated.

Theomedes lowered himself into the chair that was pulled out by a table servant, it was the chair on Aleron’s left.

Damen took the empty chair next to his father, on his other side were seated a nobleman and his wife. Damen assumed it was the lord of Marlas.

King Aleron turned to Damen, “Prince Damianos, how has your stay been thus far here in Marlas?”

“It has been well, your Majesty,” the words felt like ash in Damen’s mouth, he had never had to refer to anyone of a higher rank. Theomedes had never required that Damen he call him _Exalted_ , it had always been _Father_. “I have quite enjoyed being able to rest after our journey here from Ios.”

Aleron nodded. And then motioned towards a different set of doors than the one Theomedes and Damen had entered through. Damen turned and watched the large doors with intricate artwork and detail open inwards and in through it entered a young Omega.

The Omega’s light golden hair fell prettily, with waves shining in the firelight. The Omega’s dress was in traditional style, the fabric the same shade as the blue Damen had seen throughout the fort. Gold made up the laces and embroidery on the bodice and edges of the skirt.

The Omega came to the edge of the dias and curtsied deeply, head bowed and eyes trained on the floor.

“You may rise, Prince Laurent.” Aleron gestured softly to the chair next to Auguste.

Prince Laurent lifted slowly from his deep curtsy, and Damen had to hold a gasp in. Laurent had bright blue eyes, framed with dark lashes; his pale unmarked skin was a soft pink over his cheeks. He had a smooth brow bone, and a dainty royal nose that Damen recognized from Hennike. If Damen had not know otherwise, he would have counted the Omega as not a prince, but a princess.

As Laurent moved around the dais to the unoccupied seat next to his brother, he seemed to be floating not walking for how graceful the movement was.

After his son was seated, King Aleron raised his hand and the feast commenced. Servants came sweeping into the hall, carrying plates of various sizes with different foods on the plates. Damen thought that he would not recognize any part of the meal, but his eyes landed on traditionally Akielon foods.

He turned to the Veretian Royals, and Queen Hennike was smiling. “We thought to make our guests comfortable by having food from your homeland.”

Her Akielon was lilting, her accent not one that Damen associated with Vere. A memory struck him suddenly—Hennike’s marriage to Aleron was one also of arrangement, meant to strengthen bonds with Kempt. She would understand how her son was feeling better than any of them. Damen made a mental note to ask his tutors to help him brush up on the language of Kempt.

Theomedes nodded, “That is magnificent, thank you for your hospitality.”

Damen reached for his familiar foods after watching the servants take a single bite from each plate, glad to have this comfort so far from home.

His plate had less than he normally would have piled it, but he knew this was just the first of many courses. If not for the lessons he had about Veretian customs, but for the type of foods he saw before him. Damen simply placed a slice _dakos_ and a couple _dolma_ onto his plate.

This is where Damen relied on his training and waited for Aleron to take a bite of his food first before proceeding with his own.

Damen was surprised to find that the tastes were spot on, if a little different than that of Ios’ taste palette, probably from consulting with Sicyon. The Northern Territories had access to different resources, imports, trade routes and more than that of Ios where almost everything was brought in from Kesus.

“Prince Damianos?” A gently raised voice in Akielon brought Damen back to present; his eyes easily snapped to Prince Auguste the only possible speaker.

“Uh, yes—Prince Auguste?” He quickly tacked the title to the end.

Prince Auguste didn’t seem to mind the slight slip up, the amused smile never leaving his face.

“I have heard that you are quite the swordsman, is that true?” The question didn’t seem barbed or rooting for more information, Prince Auguste truly looked interested—his fork poised easily in his hand, his plate of dolma mostly cleared.

Damen cleared his throat slightly, trying to sound more confident. “I would quite like to think so, I do believe I still have room to improve on my skills.”

Prince Auguste nodded, “When did you start training? Do you have an interest in joining the Akielon military?”

Damen smiled, pleased at Auguste’s continued interested. A brief flash of memory went through Damen’s mind: Prince Auguste was one of the most renowned warriors in the Vere, second to none on the battlefield.

“As soon as I could pick up a sword and learn, I did. I started my military service shortly after my fifteenth nameday.”

Prince Auguste nodded in understanding.

“Damianos has made an impression thus far with our generals,” Theomedes said easily in Veretian.

“Truly,” remarked Aleron, swirling his cup of wine.

“Yes, Damianos has quickly risen from the rank of a footsoldier to a captain of his own lochos. Many of my generals believe he will prove himself worthy to rise to the position of a battalion leader, possibly even a colonel, before his twentieth nameday,” Theomedes spoke easily, but Damen could hear the streak of pride in his voice. Though, the Veretian equivalents sounded strange coming from his father’s mouth.

It was strange as well to hear his father speak of his military prowess without mentioning Kastor, who was indeed a colonel before his twentieth name day and well on his way to a brigadier.

Aleron set down his cutlery to signal the start of the next course, continuing the conversation as servants moved in to remove the first course plates and replace them with bowls of broth.

“Ah, yes, I remember when Auguste began his military career. It brings a father proud to see his son succeed and show clear steps to what kind of ruler he will be.”

Theomedes and Aleron continued their conversation easily, and any tensions at the table seemed to relax. Hennike engaged with the lord and lady sitting next to Damen, chatting about a new traveling play in Vere. Auguste spoke calmly to Damen throughout the various courses.

The only one to remain silent was Prince Laurent, which did not shock Damen as many Omega Prospects followed the tradition of being seen and not heard.  But sometimes there would be an edge to Auguste’s voice in questions and answers like he was trying get a reaction out of someone, Damen realized sharply during the seventh course—it was a roast course, with a large slab of beef before them—that it was not _him_ that Auguste was subtly trying to goad but Prince Laurent. Damen’s eyes flitted over to the young prince who looked close to viciously stabbing his slice of roast while Auguste was talking.

Something clicked. It was suddenly obvious that the Prince Laurent presented at this feast was _not_ the normal Prince Laurent, and he had probably had been given strict instructions to not act out during the feast possibly from Hennike or Aleron, or even both. And Auguste seemed very amused by it.

It was during the final course of dessert that it felt like Laurent was close to cracking.

“Prince Damianos,” Auguste began. “Some of my guard and I go riding around the lands outside during mid morning, would you and some of your men be so inclined to join us? I think it would be beneficial to get a lay of the land before the festivities begin the day after.”

Damen thought it over, the trip from Ios to Marlas had been weeks trapped on a boat and then the quick journey from the port to the fort. He hadn’t had a chance to truly stretch his legs and release some of the restless energy coursing through him.

“I think that would be quite amenable, I have a few men I believe would be fine for it,” he said, thinking of Nikandros, a few guards, and possible another lower noble.

Auguste smiled in response, but there again seemed to be that edge to it. A slight raising of his lips, a ghost of a smirk.

Damen would have to find out why.

 

Finally, after hours slowly eating plate after plate the feast was called to an end. The first to leave the royal table where the lord and lady of Marlas, they both stopped at the front of the dais; he bowed deeply, almost bent in half, and she curtisied just as deep. Damen could imagine that her knees were almost to the floor.

Damen thanked again his tutor on Veretian customs, even though he found the bashing of it on the voyage here to be tedious and unnecessary. It would be the only way he would know what would come next.

Prince Laurent and he rose from the table at the same time, following the curved edge to the front of the dais. Damen bowed, not nearly as deeply as the lord did, but enough to convey his position. Laurent curtsied as he did at the start, but again it was not as deep.

Then, they turned to face one another. It was the first time Damen had seen the young Omega’s face this close, and he had to hold in a gasp. Laurent had delicate features, not yet marked and changed by puberty. His scent had a sweet edge to it, but it was obvious he had not yet gone through his first heat. There wasn’t that sharpness to him the way the omegas Damen had been around before had.

Prince Laurent simply raised his hand, and Prince Damianos grasped it simply between one of his own. The Alpha placed a small kiss on the Omega’s knuckles, lips barely grazing the soft pale skin. Dark brown eyes bore into brilliant blues.

Laurent had a slight hitch in his breath; Damen could see his pulse fluttering in his slender pale neck.

Damen pulled away dropping the younger Prince’s hand and a sudden hardness filled Laurent’s eyes. Damen was slightly shocked, he had assumed everything was going correctly, but the look Laurent gave him was of pure disdain.

Prince Laurent quickly left the hall, his pace never going too fast or too slow. After a beat, Damen made his way through the crowd as well.

 


	2. Feels Like I am Changing and I Know it's for the Best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I definitely didn't mean to take nearly two months to write this. I've been dealing with a lot of personal stuff, but do not be afraid there is an outline for this fic, so I believe I can stay on track! I'm also looking for a beta for this fic, if you think you're qualified hit me up on tumblr [TheLittlestCaptainAmerica](thelittlestcaptainamerica.tumblr.com)
> 
> Chapter title from "New Years Eve" by Mal Blum

 

 

Damen woke as the sun rose, it filtered in through the still closed window. The air had a chill to it that Ios never had.

Before he went to bed the night before, he had one of his slaves send a message to Nikandros and another noble about joining him on the ride with Prince Auguste. Damen didn’t need a response to know both would come, no one said no to their Prince.

Damen had thought briefly about inviting Kastor to join them, as he and Auguste were of a similar age. But the memory of the cold look Laurent gave him kept him from causing more tension.

Phokas was just finishing pinning his chiton in place when a knock came from the outside door. Damen waved his hand, and the slave hurried to the door.

“Your Highness, Ser Nikandros wishes to join you for breakfast.”

“Yes, yes, let him in.”

Nikandros entered the room, dressed similarly to Damen in a simple white Chiton. Him and Damen had different coloring, but it would do good to have a group of aristocratic Akielons to create confusion on who the Crown Prince was from a distance.

Nikandros sat at the prepared breakfast table, letting Phokas prepare their plates. Damen plopped into the chair next to him, propping his chin up with his hand.

“So, we’re to go riding with the Veretians this morning?”

Damen hefted a sigh, “Yes, Nik, Prince Auguste asked me personally to come.”

Nikandros raised an eyebrow, “Isn’t it the other Prince you’re meant to marry?”

He shot his friend a bemused look before digging into the plate Phokas made, which reminded him. “Phokas, you’re dismissed. Have a small group of guards prepared to go with me to the stables after we finish here.”

Phokas bowed deeply, “Yes, Your Highness. This one will shall complete the task quickly.”

Damen turned back to Nikandros. “Yes, I’m meant to marry Prince Laurent, but something tells me that making an impression on Auguste is just as important as impressing the King and Queen.”

Nikandros nodded, lifting a piece of fruit to his mouth. “Makes sense. I heard the younger prince has his nameday in the fifth month, and that he will be turning thirteen.” His mouth twisted around the word, showing his disdain for a mere child being given away for peace.

“Yes,” Damen picked apart the piece of bread he was holding. “I’m aware. Father’s council says that if all goes to plan, we would marry the summer after his twentieth nameday.”

“That’s just over seven years of waiting.”

“If he had been born a princess, or if we knew true designation from birth we would probably be almost thirteen years into the betrothal.”

“Well, at least he’s blond.”

Damen put his utensil down in mock irritation, “I don’t feel attraction for _only_ blondes, Nikandros.”

Nikandros took a sip from his glass. “I suppose you’re right.” A beat passed. “I heard that Prince Laurent is the first Omega borne to the Veretian line in at least six generations.”

Damen just hummed in response, turning his focus more fully on his breakfast.

“I also heard that if your father didn’t accept the proposal that there was talk of turning to Prince Torveld from Patras.”

Damen almost spit out his food. He quickly swallowed before speaking. “ _Prince Torveld_? He’s older than Kastor is!”

Nikandros pursed his lips and gave Damen a look. “Yes, and that’s why Queen Hennike was so keen on you being her youngest’s Alpha. As you’re closer in age and closer to home.”

Damen sighed again, “Nik, can we just eat and save the political talk for later. I’m sure you’ll have plenty to tell me after spending the morning with the Prince.”

Nikandros gave him a wolfish smile that made him look older than the 19 years he was.

 

Breakfast was uneventful after that. When they exited Damen’s chambers, they found the guards that Damen had called for along with one of the lesser nobles who had come along to Delpha.

The stables were easy to find, and Damen spotted Prince Auguste just outside talking to one of his Prince’s Guard. Auguste caught their approach out of the corner of his eye and waved.

“Prince Damianos, it is good to see you again. I hope your morning has gone well,” Auguste spoke in perfectly accented Akielon.

Prince Auguste reached out to clasp Damen’s forearm, Damen clasped back. It dawned on him that this was the first royal greeting between the two future kings.

“And who are your guests?” Auguste nodded behind Damen.

Damen clasped Nikandros on his shoulder, “This is Nikandros. His father is the Kyros of Ios and has been a dear friend. Currently, we are serving together in the Akielon army.”

Nikandros bowed before Prince Auguste, deeper than Damen had ever seen Nikandros bow before—but then again the novelty of the Akielon royals had worn off.

“And this is Habron, his grandfather sits on my father’s council.”

Habron bowed maybe even deeper than Nikandros. While Habron was used to the court in Ios, he never spent time directly with the royals.

Auguste waved his hand, “No more bowing; we’re here to ride. Prince Laurent is joining us this morning as well, he’s already in the stables getting his horse ready.”

Damen was shocked, he didn’t think he would be allowed to see Prince Laurent outside of official delegations.

“I had your horses moved to our stable so we all could leave together. I hope you don’t mind, the stable boy should be able to bring out your horses, we had them prepared for you.”

At his words, a boy with closely cropped russet hair appeared at Auguste’s side. His eyes didn’t leave the ground. “Your highness, I will bring out the horses.”

“Thank you,” Damen said, turning to look into the opening of the stable.

And then stopped.

Because a beautiful bay mare had step out of the stable, lead by the reins by a short boy. Damen couldn’t have mistaken the boy for another stablehand because every ounce screamed aristocrat.

And his eyes.

They were the same blue eyes that Damen had seen last night, and they were filled with the same disdain.

Prince Laurent’s hair was pulled back in a plait that started at the top of his head. His skin was still smooth from youth, but the pink blush was gone and his lashes less full. Last night, he had looked androgynous but today he looked like the boy he was.

But what shocked Damen the most was not the lack of rouge or kohl, but at what the young Prince was wearing.

Gone was the traditional dress with its flowing skirt and replaced with a riding outfit that matched Prince Auguste.

Never had Damen seen an Omega in pants.

Not once.

And certainly not an underage unmated one.

“Oh, you’re already done, Laurent?” Auguste asked, that amused vein showing up in his voice again.

“Yes, Brother,” Laurent answered seriously, but his voice was high and light like a flute.

“Well, let’s get going and show Prince Damianos what Defluer has to offer.” Auguste tossed a wink over his shoulder at Damen.

 

Delpha _was_ beautiful, that much Damen could admit. The trail they followed out of one of the side gates of the fort was lined with the thin pine trees that Damen recognized from the ride from port, Auguste called them maritime pines and told him that they didn’t grow further north than this territory. Something about how once into Aran or Alier it become too cold when the temperature would begin to drop in autumn.

The sun was out, cutting back on the bite of the breeze that followed them through the trees. Damen could also admit that a temperature climate such as this would be more bearable than the extremely arid heat of Ios. Overheating, exhaustion, and dehydration were common especially in the tightly packed city of the capital. But here, where one did not have to worry about being burned by the sun or wells drying before even the solstice it seemed nice.

Of course, Damen had to silently concede to himself that he had never experienced the winters that Vere had. He had only heard of the temperatures dropping so low that instead of rain it was _snow,_  there was no word for it in Akielon so the Veretian word sounded even more foreign.

Damen found himself just behind Laurent, he could tell that the young prince had easy enough control over his mare. Damen eases forward so their horses were flank to flank.

“Hello, Prince Laurent. We didn’t get a chance to talk last night at the feast.”

Laurent regarded him with cold distant eyes, and then spoke through pursed lips in Veretian. “I don’t want to be mated to you but my father says I have to.”

“Well, I’m sure it’ll work out. My mother and father were betrothed to one another and they had a successful marriage.”

Laurent scoffed, “Successful? Your father had a bastard. If you think I’m going to spread for you while knowing you’re fucking anything that looks at you pretty like, you’re wrong, Damianos.” And with that, the boy kicked his horse and sped ahead, catching up to the guards who were at the front of their group.

Damen heard a soft laugh from behind, and turned in his saddle to Prince Auguste covering his mouth with one hand.

“I would apologize, Prince Damianos, but it would be futile for I am sure that my brother will continue to act like this when our parents aren’t here to supervise.”

Damen shrugged, turning back in his seat and nudged his horse to continue on their way.

“I am not offended, just shocked. I’ve never had anyone, and especially not an Omega speak to me that way.”

Auguste laughed again, and it bounced around like a golden note off the trees. “You have not spent much time speaking to Veretian Omegas then, and especially not royal ones.”

Damen looked backward toward where Laurent was on his horse. “You’re right, I suppose I haven’t.”

 

After riding, Damen found himself back in his assigned rooms. It was nice to lounge on a piece of cushioned furniture, even if he couldn’t stand the sight of the Veretian chaise.

He longed for his rooms in that palace, ones where the walls were bare. Where he was more likely to find mosaics in the gardens than tapestry after tapestry in a long hall.

Nikandros had accompanied him back to his rooms, grumbling under his breath about the overly ornate moldings where the ceiling met the walls.

“I would hate to live here, I can barely stand being here just for now,” he muttered.

Damen bit back a bark of a laugh. “Yes, you would have to rip out everything wouldn’t you? Just make it feel normal and not so….busy.”

Nikandros sighed. “Gods, that sounds like torture; who would even have time for that? It would probably be easier to pluck out my own eyes than have to plan a detailed removal every piece of Veretian essence from this place.”

Damen clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder and had to laugh at that, “Even if you removed everything, you would still know a Veretian had built it.”

Nikandros shook his head and looked to the floor, “I guess you’re right, Your Highness. Nothing is quite like an Akielon home.”

Damen and Nikandros broke bread easily in Damen’s chambers, after which Damen changed out of his dirtied chiton into fresh linens. Phokas’ hands moved quickly—slipping in the pins with ease, pressing out lines and folds.

The afternoon was spent looking through various documents that his Veretian tutor had sent with him to prepare for the week of betrothal customs.

Phokas was just beginning to add more kindling to the fire when one of his father’s slaves came to the door with a message from his father requesting his presence for dinner.

King Theomedes’ rooms were in the same wing as his own, Damen’s walk was short with his one of his guards shadowing him.

Damen was let in by his father’s slave and found his father, Kastor, and Hypermenestra already seated.

“Damianos, thank you for joining us,” Theomedes said, rising from the table with a goblet in hand.

“Thank you for inviting me, Father.” Damen bowed his head. “It is good see you, Kastor, Hypermenestra.”

“You as well, Damen,” Hypermenestra said, before sipping from her wine.

Hypermenestra had been as much of a permanent figure in Damen’s life than sometimes his own father. She had been Theomedes’ favorite mistress before she gave birth to their son, and long after Theomedes’ wife died. Damen had never seen her as his mother figure; she had never stepped into those shoes as they were already filled by a dead woman.

Kastor smiled easily at his brother; sometimes Damen felt tension between them but could never place the source. Usually they got along as well as he and Nikandros, but on the occasion Kastor would look at him like an opponent and not a sibling.

Their plates were filled with skewers that had lamb and tomatoes pierced upon them. Damen easily picked up a _souvlaki_ and dug in. Like the night before, the familiar food tasted amazing in this foreign land but the spices were off.

“Damen, how did your ride with Prince Auguste go today?” King Theomedes asked halfway through the meal.

Damen wiped his mouth before answering. “It went well, Father. The Crown Prince was hospitable and showed me the grounds outside of the fort. Apparently, part of his military service includes border patrol so he is quite familiar with Delpha.”

Theomedes nodded, “Yes, Kastor has spent some time on the border in Sicyon. You’ll probably be stationed in Karthas sometime before your twentieth nameday, Damen.”

Kastor set down his skewer. “I heard that Prince Auguste was not your only companion on this little outing.”

Damen gave his brother a look out of the corner of his eye, he didn’t know what had caused this tone, but it was easier to humor his brother than to not.

“No, he was not. I invited Nikandros and Habron—he is Glyippus’ grandson—to come along on our ride. And,” Damen paused, wondering if he should tell his father but something told him that Kastor knew already and would reveal it regardless, “Prince Laurent came with.”

Theomedes raised one royal brow, “Oh? Prince Laurent came on this trip? Did you not think this could ruin everything?”

Damen raised his hands, “I did not know he would be there until after I arrived and I thought it would be better not to insult Prince Auguste by refusing to ride. I don’t think his intentions were malicious, I think he was trying to help.”

“Help how? In what way?” Any sense of anger had left his father, only curiosity in its wake.

“I think he wanted me to see the young prince as himself and not a dolled up Omega under direct orders to behavior.”

Theomedes took another drink of his wine.

“And, what did you think of Prince Laurent as ‘himself’?”

Damen sighed, knowing his father would not like his answer. “That he is a petulant child, like any other boy of age 12 who is being forced to follow his father’s orders when he doesn’t want to.”

Kastor laughed, “Well it seems like you should get along well then.”

Damen pursed his lips, making point to not mention what exactly Laurent had said.

 

Damen woke before the sun rose, it was another Official Betrothal Agreement day. The royal families would take on a hunt, with the mutual understanding that the Akielons should bring in the most and biggest game while the Veretians still gave them a run for their money and honor.

The group of royals, nobles, courtiers, guards, and servants convened just inside the main gate of the fort. A group of guards had already scouted the area they were to journey to and through, but for the majority of this ride their train would be led in joint by King Theomedes and King Aleron. Prince Damen and Prince Auguste rode directly behind the two kings, and behind them rode Prince Laurent and Queen Hennike.

Damen had started to imagine Prince Laurent as an amalgamation of the perfect Omega he met the first night and the child prince he had seen the day before. This day, the young prince was outfitted again in a traditional dress. This type obviously suited for riding, the jacket and skirt were the deep royal blue that Damen knew to represent Veretian princes. The cuffs, collar, and trimmings were embroidered in deep gold. Prince Laurent also wore a hat of the same shade of blue, and his long golden hair fell in waves like his hair had just been loosed from the tight plait it had been in the day before.

His cheeks had been rosied again, and his mouth painted with rogue, he suspected kohl had been applied to the boy’s eyelashes.

Prince Laurent’s presentation paled in comparison to that of his mother, though.

Queen Hennike was still one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Her dress was a shocking silver, with black embroidery and details covering it. Her hair was piled high again with a single curl coming down to graze against her covered shoulders. Her hat was larger than the Prince’s, and was deep black with a large silver plume sticking out of the top.

What shocked Damen most about the two Omegas was that they both rode sidesaddle. Damen hadn’t expected any less than that of Queen Hennike, but it hadn’t even been a full day since Damen had seen proof that Laurent was more than capable of riding astride.

Theomedes and Aleron guided their party to a clearing to make camp. Damen recognized the fauna and flora from Auguste readily pointing them out yesterday, and was grateful for some familiarity.

The servants assigned to the Queen and young Prince quickly set up a shaded sitting area. The two sat formally, with Hennike sitting in the higher of the two chairs that had been pulled from one of the wagons. Riding in close proximity to the Queen made Damen realize something he had not seen during their prior meetings.

Queen Hennike was much more fragile than Damen had initially realized. When someone was not looking directly looking at her, her face would sometimes pinch but quickly smoothen over. Her servants seemed to hover in a way Damen had never seen before.

Theomedes and Aleron were planning out the route they would take for a bountiful hunt when the breeze brought a Veretian voice that Damen had never heard before. It was soft and tender, without a hint of malice in it.

“Do you want me to get you some more water, mother?”

“No, I’m fine, Laurent. Thank you for asking.”

A pause.

“I have more of that ginger candy in my bag.”

Damen looked up to see Hennike smiling at her son.

“That would be lovely, my sweet boy.”

The interaction suddenly shifted the fledgling views Damen had of Laurent. His hateful glare and venomous words still were present in his mind’s eye, but this private display of concern and love shook his assumptions of the young prince.

A new thought that maybe it wasn’t Damen personally that Prince Laurent took quarrel with took root in Damen’s mind.

Damen found Auguste next to his horse; he was going through the contents of his saddlebags when Damen approached.

“Ah, Damianos! Are you ready to hunt? I haven’t been on a proper royal hunt in ages,” Auguste said in Akielon, a smile genuine and bright on his face.

“Yes, I’ve heard that the game in this region is different than that of the south.”

“Yes, it’s actually different from the north as well. In Belloy, we see more wild goats, wild big cats, and water fowl like herons. Here in Delfluer, we see larger populations of deer, more seabirds from the coast, and different breeds of animals we have. Of course, we still have boars. All of Vere seems to be full of boars.” Auguste gave Damen a wink. “I have a feeling that discussing the local game was not why you found me, though.”

Damen took a breath and then let it out. “No, I wanted to talk to you about something. About Prince Laurent.”

Prince Auguste’s eyes widened slightly, “I hope my brother’s words from yesterday do not still weigh heavy on your mind?”

Damen stuck up a hand. “No, no. It’s just,” Damen took another deep breathe, “Yesterday, Prince Laurent was dressed in regular riding leathers. I’ve never seen an Omega do such, and I was surprised. But today…” Damen trailed off.

Auguste nodded in understanding. “Yes, my brother loves horseback riding, but detests riding side saddle. Since his presentation, whenever he knows Mother or Father will not be there he will throw propriety to the wind and don riding breeches.”

“Oh.”

Damen looked again at the boy across the clearing. He was holding a small bag in his lap and was talking animatedly with his mother.

 

The royal hunt went well. Collectively, the Veretians and Akelions pulled in 4 deer, 5 pheasants, and Damen took down a wild boar with the help of Auguste.

The boar was declared a true testament of the peace to come between the two future Kings.

The animals were left to be cleaned and prepared for another large royal feast to celebrate the midpoint of the discussions.

Damen knew that while the betrothal was the center point of this meeting in Marlas, the Kings and their councils weren’t locked in discussion all day to just pinpoint finer details of a wedding. He heard news that the treaty plan was going well, both sides with concessions and losses.

Delpha was a major point of contention in the talks.

“That Aleron and his snake filled Council will not concede that Delpha belongs to Akelios. It was our land once, I do not know why it cannot be added to the Omega’s dowry. I even said they could keep Marlas!” Theomedes had told Damen that morning in his rooms.

Before coming to the territory, Damen was sure he would agree with his father but Delpha felt more Veretian than any other part of Akielos he had been to. Adding it to Akielos might not be in favor of the state.

But it was not Damen’s place to say, at least not while his father still sat on the throne.

The feast that night was rowdier than the first night, nobles still riding the high from the hunt. The food was bountiful, and conversation flowed easily at the low tables and at the Royal one.

Well, except for one.

Prince Laurent was quiet, but to Damen it did not feel like a thoughtful quiet. It felt resentful and petty.

Occasionally, Prince Auguste tried to engage his younger brother in conversation; speaking in tones too low for Damen to pick up on, and each time Laurent seemed to respond without opening his mouth more than a hair's breadth of his lips.

Whatever side Damianos thought he saw of Laurent that day was gone, replaced again by this static and hateful being.

 

It was the mid morning on the day before the official signing of the agreement. King Theomedes was locked away with his advisors, King Aleron, and the Veretian council.

It’s a breath of fresh air before a long and tedious day.

Phokas, upon Theomedes’ order, had read off the schedule while Damen are breakfast.

“Your Highness, the day shall begin by a breaking of your fast in the grand hall two hours after dawn. The procession will then continue into the main showing room of the fort, where the Veretian King and Exalted will present the final agreement. The doctrine will already contain their seals, and then Your Highness and the Veretian Prince will place in your own hands your approval. After the signing, the procession will continue outside of the fort and Your Highness and the Veretian Prince will ride along the outside walls to show the strength of the agreement. Upon arrival back inside the grounds, a festival in honor of the signed agreement will begin. The evening will conclude at midnight with the signaling of Veretian fireworks.”

This was one of the worst parts of being a Prince, Damen thought to himself. He had to gallivant around, wave to the people, pretend that this agreement was joyous and not one where he was signing his life away to an Omega child who barely started puberty. An Omega who hated him.

In the window of time between that and this, Damen planed to enjoy the day lazing around his rooms. Nikandros had arrived after breakfast with a book in hand. This, too, was welcome.

It was an hour before midday when a knock came to the door. Damen didn’t even need to point Phokas—who was sitting on a small stool in front of the fire mending a tear in the chiton Damen had worn on the hunt—towards the door before the slave was rising.

Phokas has barely pulled open the door before he was dropping to the floor in a prostrated position.

Damen sat up from his lounge on the chaise, the sheaths of paper in his hands set down on the cushion.

“Rise,” came a voice, whose body was still hidden by the door. But it was one Damen recognized, the scarcely Veretian accented Akielon giving him away.

Damen pulled himself fully to his feet, a wrist flicking out to Nikandros to indicate he was to rise from his chair as well.

“Prince Auguste, what do I owe the pleasure?”

The Crown Prince stepped out from behind door, a bright smile on his face and his golden locks pulled back with a ribbon.

“Prince Damianos, I came to invite to have lunch with me and my brother today in the gardens.”

Damen blinked, it was another day that Auguste had sought him out to spend time with him and Laurent away from the supervised eyes of their parents.

Auguste cocked his head to Nikandros, “You can come as well, Ser Nikandros. Do not fret about intrusion, it would only make sense that one of Damianos’ trusted friends come along as well.”

Nikandros flicke his eyes to Damen, who gave a brief nod before turning back to their guest.

“Yes, I gladly accept. When do you wish us to join you?”

“Now, if possible. I had my servants prepare enough food, so do not fret. I was going to offer you to invite Ser Nikandros next, but his presence here was just all too convenient.”

They followed Auguste out to the gardens. Damen had seen them from a distance, but had not ventured into them. Flowers, plants, fountains, and benches littered the designated area. Auguste led them to a secluded area that opened up to reveal the younger Veretian prince and a handful of the Prince’s Guard. The bright starburst symbol laid emblazoned on their chests.

The food was light, but still good. They sat on a blanket that had been set out by one of Auguste’s servants, before he was waved off.

The princes and Nikandros served themselves; Prince Auguste offered some to his guards as well and they seemed grateful.

Laurent ignored the others, turning away from the group and reading from a small book he had pulled from inside his jacket.

The rest of the group’s conversation ranged in topics, and once again Damen felt himself immensely enjoying to company of Auguste.

The elder prince was knowledgeable on many pursuits, but never made Damen feel inadequate for not knowing as well. When their discussion had turned to combat, Damen and Auguste traded counter moves and measures they would use. Auguste was more honorable than what Damen had been taught to believe a Veretian would be.

“I believe every fight should be fair, I would take no joy in bring down a combatant if he was unarmed,” Auguste remarked, leaning back on his hands.

“Even if by letting your opponent arm themselves you fell to them?” Damen asked, his brow furrowed.

Auguste sent him a sly smile. “I have not been bested in sword fighting since I was fifteen, if I was facing someone who was not initially armed or ended up losing their sword in the course of combat I do not think I would lose to them. An honorable death on the battlefield can only come when you fight until your last breath, I am sure your commanders have told you such, Prince Damianos.”

Just then, an older slave came hurrying to their group. Damen recognized him as to belonging to Nikandros’ household. The slave bent himself in half, eyes not leaving the ground.

“This one apologizes to interrupt, Ser Nikandros the Kyros requested your presence in his rooms.”

Nikandros sighed from his position next to Damen. “Thank you, Sophus. You’re dismissed.”

The slave dipped further into his bow, backing away five paces before turning and hurrying back into the fort.

“I am sorry, Your Highnesses, but I do believe that I must depart or else I’ll be hearing about it for weeks,” Nikandros chuckled, before clapping a hand on Damen’s shoulder as he rose.

“You two are very close,” Auguste said, his eyes trained on the retreating back of Damen’s best friend.

Damen watched as well, a soft smile on his face. “Yes, I believe I told you his father is the Kyros of Ios. Nikandros grew up in the palace as well I did, it made sense for our fathers to group us together.” Damen looked back to Auguste. “Nikandros is my best friend, I plan to appoint him to his father’s position when that time comes.”

Auguste nodded, his face in understanding. “It is important to know your advisors and courtiers. When I ascend, I will inherit my father’s council as is. But god forbid that happens any time soon. I assume you feel the same, Prince Damianos?”

Damen nodded. “Damen.”

Auguste raised an eyebrow, “What?”

Damen smiled easily at the older man. “Damen, it was what my friends and family call me. And tomorrow, I believe we’ll be closer to that. Family.”

“Damen,” Auguste said, seeming to test the word out. “Yes, but tomorrow is the start of seven long years before that.” His eyes moved to where Laurent was on their blanket.

Damen’s eyes followed and saw that the boy had fallen asleep, he was on his back with the book—Vaskian poetry—still clasped in one hand.

“Do you you think he will ever stop hating me?”

The words are out before he could stop them.

Auguste opened his mouth in surprise, and then closed it. “He doesn’t hate you,” he began. “He hates that he’s being sold as part of a treaty. He hates that once his scent started shifting, he stopped being just a Prince and became the Omega Prince.”

Auguste sighed and looked down. “I am sure you know, but an Omega has not been born in the Veretian royal line in many generations, much less a male Omega. Father had hoped he would be another Alpha, but when Laurent hadn’t shown those signs, many thought that he would be a Beta like our Uncle had been.” His mouth twisted around the word Uncle. “But, then last summer his plain scent, instead of turning musky or airy, it turned sweet. As it grew stronger, and the physicians confirmed it, the King’s Council was already brewing up how to use this new….development to its full potential.”

Auguste looked Damen directly in the eye. “You and I, as Alphas, will never understand what it is like to be an Omega. Laurent, he spent twelve years believing he was to be a Beta.” He looked away, across to his younger brother. “And now that has changed. There are no records of traditions of Veretian Royal Omegas, Mother has had books sent from Kempt of what their protocols are. His entire life changed in one season; he will never be my advisor, he will never hold his own title or land, he will never marry for love. The moment he found out that King Theomedes had accepted the proposal to join you both in marriage, he began studying about Akielos. He had already learned some, as you are our neighbor to the South but….”

Auguste trailed off and looked at Damen with a smirk, “I think you already know how feels about certain customs.”

Damen looked at the boy, at Laurent. His future mate. Prince Auguste was tight, he would never know what it meant to be an Omega, what it was like to have his entire life changed for reasons out of his control.

“I don’t wish to be another problem in his path,” Damen all but whispered out into the garden air.

“You won’t be, as long as you remember you are both princes. You may be from differing countries and designations, but you are both of Royal blood.”

Damen didn’t respond, letting the words hanging in the air as the sunlight swam in lengths around them. A breeze floated threw, rustling Laurent’s plaited hair.

 

It was the closest Damen had been to Prince Laurent over the five days the Akielons had been in Marlas. The younger prince stood a handwidth away as Damen signed the bottom of the contract.

King Aleron had presented the document, unfurling the scroll to show the gathered crowd of courtiers the wax seals declaring the contract binding in both Vere and Akielos. King Theomedes had placed the contract on a pedestal that had been brought to the main showing room. From there the two princes had stepped forward, their breakfast still heavy in their bellies.

Well, it would have been if Damen had been able to force himself to eat more than some fruit and cheese. The quill felt heavy in his hand, instead of mere ounces it felt like pounds. An imposing weight of an entire future pinned down into just a few lines of ink.

Prince Laurent stood maybe a handswidth apart from him, not close enough to feel his body heat. Though Damen doubted he would be able to, as the other prince wore a traditional Veretian dress in that deep royal blue again, and up close the elaborate details were even more nauseating.

Damen signed his name and title then passed the quill to Laurent. The young prince elegantly took it, his fingers wrapping around the shaft like you would a dagger before relaxing into a proper writing stance. A sweet floral scent drifted from Prince Laurent’s head, like freshly cut lavender and lilac. It was barely there, it could almost have been a breeze lifting off of a bouquet. It was nothing like the Omegas in Damen’s harem, whose scents were all loud and almost overwhelming the closer to heat they got.

But this, this was light. It would probably be expected for someone who had not fully presented and just had a scent shift.

Laurent stood back up straight, setting the quill down.

Theomedes smiled at them, and Damen recognized it as has his court smile—a flash of the teeth, no crinkling around his eyes. He then took the scroll and showed it again to the crowd, now with the freshly drying ink.

“With this document, We agree to peace between Us and Brother Vere.”

Aleron stepped forward, gripping the otherside of the paper. “With this document, We agree to peace between Us and Brother Akielos.”

“In the seventh month, seven years from now, we will join our two kingdoms—”

“—Our son Crown Prince Damianos—”

“—and Our son Prince Laurent—”

“—will join in Holy Matrimony—”

“—Thus sealing this treaty.”

The two smiled in a way only kings could.

Damen felt his stomach shrink; this was it. There was no going back, like there was even a chance once his father’s advisors had agreed to this.

That lavender smell changed suddenly, from light and airy to sharp and bitter. Anger.

Damen did not have to look at his betrothed to know that he was angry, he had known that Laurent was angry since the moment he laid eyes on him.

The rest of the day, Damen spent no further than at least five feet away from his promised mate. They rode their horses out and around the fort, waving to the commoners who had come to celebrate the signing. The festival began the moment the two came back inside in the gate, musicians played Akielon and Veretian ballads.

For the first time, Damen sat next to Laurent during a meal. His movements were stiff, and his scent never changed back. For a brief moment, as they moved out to the gardens Damen worried the boy had became sick before his eyes fell to the clenched pale fist. No, still angry.

They spent hours watching the festivities, and Laurent never once relaxed his tight posture.

Auguste’s words from the day before rang in his mind, Laurent didn’t hate him per say, but it still felt like it.

After dinner, was the dancing. Damen knew what would happen.

As the musicians switched and began to tune their instruments, Damen stood. He turned to Laurent and bowed, offering his hand.

“May I offer you this first dance?”

Laurent just placed his much smaller hand in Damen’s.

They walked hand and hand to the middle of floor, conscious of all the eyes on them.

Damen had been fully and _extraordinarily_ aware that Laurent was still a boy, nowhere near adulthood. But it hadn’t fully dawned on him until they begun dancing. Damen’s hand covered the entire span of Laurent’s lower back. His bright blue eyes came barely to the middle of Damen’s chest. Damen was tall for his age, and the lingering pain in his legs and back told him that he still had much to grow, but he could not picture a life with this _child_ in front of him. Damen was 17, soon turning 18 and knew he was still seen as a child by many in Akielos, but this. This was a real child, one whose entire life was bought and sold for peace between kingdoms.

Damen silently forgave Laurent for his hostility, for Damen would still have a life and his own autonomy outside of their betrothal and mating. Laurent would not, he was constricted for the rest of his life, spending the foreseeable future sequestered away to maintain peace.

Damen was lost in thought the rest of the night, eyes barely tracing the courtiers in white dancing, the only thing shaking him out of it was the fireworks at midnight.

It was going to be a long seven years.


	3. A Hundred Arms, A Hundred Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay!! A new chapter!! I told you I was more on track with stuff now. I'm looking at about 2-3 weeks between chapter updates right now. I'm about to move so there might be some delays.
> 
> Chapter title from "100 Years" by Florence + The Machine

_Summer_

The solstice had just passed when a letter with a Veretian seal arrived addressed to Damen. He didn’t recognize the hand, and the Akielon seemed timid like the writer was just getting used to writing in the language. It wasn’t until he reached the bottom of the single sheath and recognized the signature.

It was from Prince Laurent.

He read back over the letter.

 

_“...Yesterday, at dinner, we ate duck with potatoes. I sat with Mother, Father, and Brother. The musicians played music, and people talked at their tables. Brother told me a joke about a fisherman…”_

 

The letter felt less like a letter and more like the lesson assignments Damen received when he was learning other languages. The ink was pristine, but the stroke marks still looked hesitant. This probably wasn’t the first draft that Laurent had written, working to have the correct syntax, spelling, and conjugation. Akielon and Veretian were very different languages, and did not share an alphabet, it was a hard bridge to cross if someone was wanting to become multilingual.

Damen put the letter asid and out of his mind, he had other things to worry about. He was up for a promotion of rank in the army, and was to lead his troops to deal with an issue along the eastern edge of Kesus.

He would be back by the equinox, when the temperature would drop but still not be cold enough to call for more than a simple himation cover his chiton—his legs still bare and leather sandals on his feet.

 

Another letter found him in Kesus, delivered with his correspondence from Ios.

 

_“...Today, Brother and I rode our horses in the forest. We saw a pond with a mother goose and her babies. They were losing their feathers, I wanted to take some but Brother said there might be disease on them…”_

 

The writing style mirrored the first, just a simple repetition of the day Prince Laurent had had. Damen guessed it was nice to receive postage from his betrothed, but there was no substance. It was like Prince Laurent just wanted to be a loud and constant reminder that they were tied together, maybe not yet in matrimony but in history.

What Damen did or did not do in this betrothal would be reflected in history.

But, he pushed it out of his mind as one of his soldiers came into his tent, questions on his lips.

 

They’re resting outside an inn, well his soldiers were. Damen and their commanding officer have their own rooms in the inn. The issue in Kesus was easy to solve, there had been robberies up down the Kingsroad that connected Kesus to Thrace. After only a handful of days, Damen’s troops had rooted out the bandits—a group of Patran immigrants. That would not be helpful the next time the Patran ambassador came to Ios, tensions had always run high with their neighbors to the east; the only thing settling them was their steady trade routes.

One of his messengers approached his table in the dining area of the inn.

Damen recognized the cream colored envelope as it stood out from the tan ones in the pile.

Damen sighed, he might as well get it over with and read it.

 

_“...The clothing merchant and tailor came to the Palace. Mother has ordered a new wardrobe for me, as I continue to grow. While most of the cloth is in our Blue, Mother has said that they will all be made into dresses. I still do not know how I feel about dresses…”_

 

The same as before. Trivial. His word usage had gotten better, but there was nothing there of true substance.

“What’s that,” Aetuis, one of the higher ranking soldiers, asked as he sat down with his dinner plate.

Damen sighed. “Nothing more than a Veretian’s whimsy.”

Aetuis laughed. “Everything a Veretian does is for whimsy, Captain.”

Damen nodded, already leafing through the other letters that his messenger had brought.

 

_Autumn_

 

He put all thoughts of letters out of his mind, it wasn’t until the cooler breezes from the sea started coming in full force that another letter arrived.

The envelope looked like the others he still had, but was considerably thinner. As if there was only one sheath of paper inside.

Damen picked up the small knife on his desk, easily sliding it under the flap and slicing the wax seal away from binding the envelope shut.

It was only one sheath of paper. With only a few lines written on it in that familiar hand.

 

_“To my betrothed,_

_My messengers tell me that my correspondence has been reaching you, but it seems yours has not been. How will I ever get to know My Alpha if his letters do not reach me? Please respond in haste so that I can know more of your life in Ios to prepare when I come south for our union._

_With Love,_

_Prince Laurent”_

 

It was like a punch to a gut. Damen had been ignoring Laurent’s letters as he had assumed the boy was filling some childish whim. Just using the letters to practice his Akielon and frame it as correspondence. And maybe the boy was, but Damen still knew that he still had a part to play. That continuing to ignore these letters would not play in his favor, and that somehow word would make it to his father’s advisors.

He was almost a grown man, he did not need a scolding from the advisors.

With a heavy sigh, Damen picked up his quill and a sheath of his own paper, filling the page with his tight military script of Akielon.

 

_“Prince Laurent,_

_I apologize for my lack of response. I have been busy with my duties in the army. I enjoy receiving your letters and look forward to them. I am not one for letter writing, so I again apologize. I hope this letter finds you well._

_Damianos”_

 

After pressing his lion crest into a blot of red wax, he motioned for his slave, Phokas. “Take this to post master and have it put on the way to Arles immediately.”

Phokas nodded, taking the letter and leaving the room quickly.

Damen picked up a another sheath, intending to write a proper response to the letters. This one could take longer than the previous had.

 

_“...I was in Kesus for the last fortnight dealing with an issue there. I also dislike dealing with the clothing merchants, for one only needs a good white linen for a chiton. And they want to sell you different colors and fabrics. Maybe if I was a Prince that stayed in the Capital, I would need such diversity, but in the Akielon Army you only need your linen and your leathers…”_

 

After that, it is back and forth between the two. It’s a cordial agreement, where they both asked simple questions and never divulged too much about themselves. Damen felt like he was learning more about the boy, but he still didn’t trust the intentions behind the letters. Maybe the stance between Akeilos and Vere was changing, but he had spent his whole life with his father only warning against all things Veretian.

He still never gave the boy enough power to hold over him.

 

It was over a month after the equinox, and the eve of Damen’s eighteenth nameday. He had felt like a man for long before the day that would officially make him one, but it was to be a celebration nonetheless.

There was food, and dancing, and musicians. The Kyroi were there, with all their own respective broods. As well as the regular ambassadors from Vask, Patras, and Vere. After dining on his favorite foods, the gift procession began. Each Kyros, noble, and ambassador presenting their gifts in front of the dais where Theomedes sat in a high backed armed chair with Damen sitting to his right in a shorter armless chair.

Gifts of weapons, books, money, and livestock came from the Kyroi and lesser nobles. Their gifts were less politically important than those of the ambassadors. The gifts the ambassadors presented represented what that country was giving to the Crown Prince of Akielos.

Marika, the Vaskian ambassador, was the first in line. Marika was a beautiful Alpha woman with striking cheekbones and curled auburn hair; she wore a long trained red dress with gold embroidery; Damen usually found her clothing to be less nauseating than Veretian dress. She bowed, bending in half and presenting an object wrapped in what looked like dyed deerskin.

“Brother Akielos, as ambassador of Vask, I present a gift to Crown Prince Damianos,” She spoke in a strong Vaskian accent, Damen thought it was endearing to the statuesque woman.

Damen gently lifted the parcel from her hands and unwrapped it to reveal a black dagger and sheath. The pommel was carved in the shape of leopard’s head, with two emeralds staring out for eyes.

“The emeralds were mined from the Empress’s personal gem mine in Ver-Vassal, and from our metal mines in Ver-Tan.”

“Thank you, Ambassador Marika, for this gift,” He said with a smile. Vaskian gifts were always a surprise—the year before, Marika had presented him with two life size golden leopard statues. They stood now in front of the Vaskian suite in the delegates wing of the palace.

Ingmar, the ambassador from Patras, took Marika’s place in presenting a gift. He was a tall thin Alpha man with long brown hair tied behind his head, and wore all black with silver trim on his waistcoat and cuffs. He bowed and then motioned for two servants to step forward.

“Brother Akielos, as ambassador of Patras, I present a gift to Crown Prince Damianos,” Ingmar said, with only the barest of Patran hinted in his voice.

The two servants unrolled and revealed an intricately made circular dark blue and gold rug; the night sky seemed to be reflected in the imagery, with detailed constellations surrounding it.

“It is a tapestry woven of the sky on the night of your birth. Surrounding it are the constellations that reflect your astrological leanings. We see Scorpio for your Sun, Taurus for your Moon, Virgo for your Ascendent, your Venus and Mars signs are in Libra and Scorpio, respectively.”

Damen smiled awkwardly, it was a beautiful gift both in design and in the research that the Patran scholars must have done. But Damen was not one for astrology.

“Thank you, Ambassador Ingmar, for this gift.”

Ambassador Prewitt of Vere stepped forward. Prewitt had been the ambassador between Vere and Akielos for many years, and was a haughty Beta man with immaculately curled hair. His lips were always pursed like the very presence of the Akielon court displeased him. His clothes were lavish, but after seeing how the real Veretian royalty dressed, there was less grandeur to it all.

“Brother Akielos, as ambassador of Vere, I present a gift to Crown Prince Damianos.”

Prewitt life from a servant’s hands a parcel wrapped in pure white linen and passed it into Damen’s waiting hands.

As Damen unfolded the linen to reveal the inner contents, Prewitt announced the gift to the crowd.

“It is special-made ceremonial leather armor with gold inlays and joints. Made in special request by the Crown Prince’s betrothed—Prince Laurent.”

Damen looked up from the carved lions in the leather breastplate that had gold leaf bound the surface. Laurent had picked out this gift?

“Thank you, Ambassador Prewitt, for this gift.”

Prewitt bowed in graciousness and snobbery.

The rest of the evening, Damen couldn’t stop thinking of the leather armor. He would have to take it to the royal armourer to have it properly fitted, but Prince Laurent had asked for it? Why?

The musicians were switching out causing a lull in activity in the grand hall when Prewitt approached him.

“Your Highness, if I may have a moment.”

Damen waived off the noble who was talking to him. “Yes, Ambassador?”

From inside his jacket, Prewitt fetched a familiar looking cream white envelope.

“I was instructed to deliver this letter to you personally, Your Highness. I would be most grateful if you conveyed that I did my duty.”

Damen blinked as Prewitt turned away.

There was no doubt who this letter was from, he didn’t even have to look at the blue wax seal to know. Damen slipped a finger under the flap and opened the envelope.

The letter was the shortest Damen had ever seen, but written in the soon becoming familiar hand.

 

_“Damianos,_

 

_I hope the linen and leathers were up to your standards._

 

_Laurent.”_

 

Of course.

Damen could just imagine Laurent’s face as he dipped his quill and wrote these lines. Maybe Damen shouldn’t have been so snide in his reply, but it looked like Laurent wasn’t going to let Damen let off easy for dismissing him.

The leather armor was of good material, and would look regal for ceremonies, but Damen would know exactly why Prince Laurent had it commissioned.

“What’s that, a love letter from Prewitt?” His brothers voice came from behind his shoulder.

Damen turned, tucking the sheath of paper back into the envelope before passing it off to Phokas who always shadowed Damen.

“No, Brother. A letter from my betrothed.”

Kastor raised an eyebrow, looking up at Damen ( _when had Damen grown larger than him in size_?).

“Really, I would have not thought that the little snake would write to you.”

Damen rolled his eyes, Kastor had made it known that he did not care for their Northern neighbors.

“The princes are different than how you and Father described other Veretians.”

Kastor barked out a laugh. “Yes, people do seem different in a castle than they do on the battlefield, little brother.”

Damen just shook his head. Kastor was in one of his better moods, the ones where he would joke and laugh with Damen. Not the ones where he avoided his younger brother or went out of his way to say hurtful things.

His whole life, Damen felt this barrier between him and his brother and nothing he did ever seemed able to cut through it.

For now, Damen just wanted to enjoy his brother’s presence. Side by side, they watched the new group of musicians start up. They played a jaunty dance number and couples paired off to dance to the rhythm.

Then, a thought occurred to Damen that he couldn’t shake. It startled an exhale of breathfrom his mouth.

Kastor turned to look at him, “Something the matter, little brother?”

Damen shook his head. “No, I just remembered something that Prince Auguste told me.”

“And, pray tell, was that?”

He swallowed, then turned—eyes sweeping over the crowd. “It was about Prince Laurent. How just last year everyone believed he was a Beta. He was raised as a Beta, treated like a Beta, believed he was a Beta. And then, one day. He no longer was a Beta, it was not a choice or decision that was on Prince Laurent’s part.” Damen peeked at his brother from the corner of his eye. Kastor had pursed his lips and was looking at his goblet of wine. “It just made me realize that until I was born, you were the Crown Prince. I have always known this, of course, but it is different knowing as a man than as a child.”

Damen took a breath then turned back to his brother. “I am sorry if I have angered you anyway. I know that the position that I am in is your birthright,” Damen reached up the golden lion pin on his shoulder. A gift from last year’s nameday.

Kastor sighed, “No, little brother. I do not hold anger for you, maybe once I did. But you are the son of the Akielon King and Queen, I am just the son of the King. This is your birthright, I am lucky to be even acknowledged at court.

Damen grabbed his brother’s shoulder. “No, brother. You are so much more than that. You are a seasoned commander, a successful political navigator, a member of the King’s advisors. And, you won’t just be the son of the King. You are my brother. When I ascend to the throne, you will be the brother of the king, you will still be a King’s advisor, and one of the best commander’s our army has seen.”

Kastor blinked, “You would keep me as an advisor?”

Damen just smiled in response, “Of course, brother. Who else will tell me what an idiot I am being without fear?”

Kastor threw back his head and laughed.

 

_“...I would like to thank you for your gift. I had the armourer resize some of the pieces to better fit me during ceremonies. The gold inlay on the lions was a nice touch, did you request that specifically? Prewitt did give me your letter, as well. Patras gifted me a large astrological rug, that I haven’t quite figured out a placement for…”_

 

_“...I actually asked Brother what he thought would look nice. Patran gifts are always quite unique, are they not? Your rug may be better suited for viewing than the usual practical use of a rug. Maybe hang it upon a wall in your study? For my thirteenth nameday, Patras gave me a large chest of Omega literature…”_

 

_Winter_

 

_“...I took your advice and hung the astrological rug on a wall in my study. In Akielos, we do not usually hang wall ornaments, but this seems to be a nice addition to the room. And no, I do not find your letters to be a bother as you voiced in your last letter. I look forward to them when they come, even if they are quite lengthy…”_

 

_“...Mother said not to overburden you as you have your military duties. I try to write more as I know that our Northern winter will no doubt delay my correspondence. Brother promised me that once the snow melts, we will go riding again in the forests. I miss riding during the winter months; Mother and Father say it is not safe…”_

 

_“...Sometimes I find my military duties to be tedious, but most times I greatly enjoy it. The swordmaster in Ios said that it was if I was born swinging a sword. I can not remember a time when I did not have one in hand, be it the wooden swords I used as a child or the dulled blades of my adolescence…”_

 

_“...I was to learn sword fighting last summer, but Father decided it was best my time was better spent on my new studies. Brother has taught me a few defensive moves, but not with a sword. He still sees me as a mere child even with my fourteenth nameday on the horizon. On his fourteenth nameday, he had already been made a squire and was on a campaign…”_

 

_Spring_

 

_“...My nineteenth nameday is this coming autumn, and my elder Brother still sees me as a child as well. My Father sees me as an adult in some ways, and that has grown since my seventeenth namedway when he officially made me his heir. But in others, I am still his youngest son. I will have a promotion soon in the army, I am to be a_ _Syntagmatarkhis (that means Colonel). I am hoping to rise to a general by my twenty-first nameday…”_

 

_“...Today during lunch in the great hall, a woman with curls told me that it was un-Omega-like to eat my food before my Alpha brother did. It seems everyday, someone new and of unimportance decides to tell me that what I am doing is un-Omega-like. But certainly what is expected of a common Omega is different than that of a Royal Veretian Omega…”_

 

Damen pondered what to send with Ambassador Theophilus for Laurent’s fourteenth nameday. It wasn’t like with his lovers when he gifted them with clothes he wished to see them wear; with his slaves he gave new perfumes and body paint. But for a betrothed? Damianos did not know.

He eventually settled upon something simple but still grand enough for a Prince.

After spending almost an hour gazing at different jewels, he settled on a particular shade of sapphire to be cut and fitted into gold stud earrings, a starburst shaped pendant, and a simple ring that the Royal Jeweler assured could easily be adjusted as the boy grew.

Damen felt a ping of annoyance that Prince Laurent had been able to pick a perfect gift, but he could not think of what to send—he was not even sure if his betrothed would even like this gift. Maybe he could send with Theophilus a letter as Laurent did with Prewitt…

 

_“Laurent,_

 

_I hope you found my gift quite fulfilling. I did not know what choose as your gift was very well suit for my liking. Next year, if there is something in particular you would enjoy do not hesitate to tell me. And I will do the same this coming Autumn._

 

_Yours Truly,_

 

_Damianos”_

 

Laurent’s letter in return arrived before Theophilius did, presumably sent before the weeklong festivities ended in Arles.

 

_“...Your gift was well received. Mother says that the sapphires match my eyes and that they look lovely. I think they are lovely as well, so do not worry that I am displeased. You will never believe what Vask gifted me; the Ambassador said the Empress herself picked it out. Auguste would not tell me what the name of it was, but I have heard some of the pets giggling about it…”_

 

_“...I have never received a gift from Vask_ _quite_ _like that. I am filled with joy that your nameday went well. I do not feel any excitement towards my upcoming nameday, I am officially a man by Akielon customs. Maybe I will feel differently when I am close to my twentieth nameday, as I will no longer be a teenager...”_

 

_Summer_

 

_“...I think I have started to find nameday celebrations to be less enjoyable than I did before. My nameday celebration always had some somber undertones as my birth coincided with my uncle passing away, but now there seems to be an edge. I don’t quite care for how some of the older members of court look at me now. I feel sometimes less like a prince and more like a prospective pet…What are summer months in the South like? Here it gets very humid and it is almost stifling...”_

 

_“...Summer months here are typically very sunny and dry; so dry, you have to carry water skin everywhere you go. The ocean water is warm and is very refreshing, but you still have to worry about getting solar burns. Our physicians have found that breaking open an aloe plant and using the gel inside helps ease the pains of these burns and expedite the healing process…”_

 

_“...I have read about your Southern beaches, with sand so white and where the ocean waters are so blue they look like the sky. The only beach I have been to was covered in rocks and the water was dark blue like storm clouds...Brother and I are going on a hunting trip sometime in the future. I am excited for I have not been on a trip like this in while…”_

 

_“...Hunting is good past time, though I have not done much of it in recent years, either. Since my promotion, I have not had much free time. I am glad I had the forethought to station messengers at the major outposts on the trade route between the North and South so that I can still receive your letters in a timely manner. I should start heading south again in the coming weeks…”_

 

_Autumn_

 

_“...What is it like to be in the military? Brother says that there are major differences in ours and yours, but I would think the experience should be the same should it not? It is hard to believe that just two years ago I was excited to become a page, but now I spend my time learning how to embroider…”_

 

_“...Your military and mine are different in how we tactically approach and how we outfit, but there are many similarities. Such as ranks and owed respect. I think I would enjoy to learn how to use a Northern sword, they seem to be lighter than our Southern swords but the blades just as sharp. I’ve heard they can be sharpened as thin as a razor blade…”_

 

As with the start of every eleventh month, the celebrations for Damen’s nameday began. Despite his lack of excitement, the festivities were just as jovial as every year.

His gifts became more practical while still being made for a Prince. Vask gifted four large barrels of the Empress’s favorite plum brandy. The barrels were the more decorative portion of the gift. Patras gifted a large set of silver goblets that had the Akielon lion in relief on either side.

When Ambassador Prewitt stepped forward, Damen hoped that his hint in his letter to Laurent had been clear enough to give the Omega a sense of what to send.

“Brother Akielos, as ambassador of Vere, I present a gift to Crown Prince Damianos.”

Prewitt bowed, and hold forth a parcel wrapped in veretian blue silk; Damen accepted the gift and unwrapped it.

“It is a traditionally made Veretian sword, like the ones in use by the Royal family. It was made on special request from his highness—Prince Laurent.”

Damen smiled, yes. Laurent had understand what Damen had asked for. The sword was lightweight, the blade thin, and oh yes he could see that it would hold an edge quite thinly and sharply.

“Thank you, Ambassador Prewitt, for this gift.”

Later in the evening, after the sun had set behind the horizon and the hall was filled with the sounds of music, dancing, and chatter, Ambassador Prewitt found him again.

“Your highness,” he said with a bow.

“Ambassador,” Damen said in kind.

Prewitt stood straight up, and presented Damen with a cream colored envelope.

“I have been instructed to deliver this correspondence to you after your receival of your gift.”

Damen took the envelope, and it felt as thick and heavy as the envelopes his own messengers had given him. He didn’t have to turn it over to see the seal.

“Thank you, Ambassador. I will be sure to pass along that you delivered this envelope in a timely manner.”

Ambassador Prewitt dipped his head before turning back to the party; Damen handed the envelope to Phokas.

After the crowds started to disperse, and the musicians left, and Damen was in his rooms alone, he opened the envelope.

 

_“...The sword is modeled after the one that Auguste has, but the blacksmith made it to your height. I had to pressure Prewitt to guess your height, and I did not realize you had more in height since our first meeting. I had hoped that some day I would be close to your height, but I don’t think as an Omega I will ever catch up in height…”_

 

The letter was just long as any letter that Damen had received, but it was somehow different. It hadn’t passed through half a dozen hands before arriving to him, no it had gone directly from Prince Laurent to Ambassador Prewitt to Damen. He could almost swear he could smell lavender and lilac drifting from the parchment.

He took a deep breath as he began to compose his response.

 

_“...Sometime last year I surpassed my brother in height and have continued to grow. My physician believes that soon my growth will plateau. This Spring, I noticed I had grown taller than my father. He only laughed when he realized, and he said it was because my mother was from Aegina and they had legends of giants there. Do not blame being an Omega for a lack of height, I met an Omega woman once who had to be almost six foot, and I have known Omega men to be taller. A tall stature is not unbecoming…”_

 

_Winter_

 

_“...You have truly met tall Omegas? The only Omegas I know here are my mother and a few of the ladies; I do not know any male Omegas. What are other male Omegas like? Sometimes I feel like I am held to the same standard as female Omegas, but some believe my designation supersedes my status as a Prince. I do long for days where I was just younger Prince and not the Omega Prince…”_

 

_“...Male Omegas here, I would assume, are treated similar to their Beta counterparts. There hasn’t been a male Omega born into the Royal line for a few generations, so I can not tell you how a royal Omega male is treated. But here in the South, some of our great rulers have been Omegas. Queen Ianthe, for example, was an only child and an Omega. It is said she was as fearsome on the battlefield as she was beautiful…”_

 

_“...I did not know that in the South, Omegas were able to sit on the throne. I do not believe that is the case here in the North, I will have to ask Brother. I wonder if all that I learn about the South is accurate as it seems, for what you tell me and what my tutors are teach are sometimes at odds. I believe an Akielon written book on histories, customs, or legends would be greatly appreciated. I would like to hear about those Aegina giants you mentioned in the Autumn…”_

 

_“...I hope you enjoy the book I have included. It was one of my favorites during lessons. The new year has been well for me, has it for you? I realize that I have sent you a Southern book on our customs and their origins, but there are areas in my knowledge that are lacking. After you read the book, I would love to hear if there is any crossover between our two nations. I always love to hear from you…”_

 

Damen stared at the drying ink. He had written the word “love” twice. When had he gone from just humoring his betrothed to actually enjoying their correspondence?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know in canon that Guion is the ambassador between Vere and Akielos, but uhhhh fuck Guion. 
> 
> Follow me on tumbler at [#Collarbones Fic](thelittlestcaptainamerica.tumblr.com>TheLittlestCaptainAmerica</a>.%20I%20tag%20all%20post%20on%20my%20tumblr%20as%20<a%20href=)
> 
> Also, I'm still looking for a beta/proofreader to help out with this fic!!


	4. If I was a blackthorn tree, I’d wanna be felled by you, held by you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY, I KNOW I've been MIA since the end of September, but some of the themes in this chapter I kind of hated writing (you'll know when you get to them). But, here it is my friends! The long awaited chapter 4! I've got some GOOD ideas for chapter 5, so be on the look out! I hope not to take three and a half months to update, but the outline is still going strong!!
> 
> Also!! I wrote something for the Secret Santa last month!! Check my profile for it. It’s called “My Blood is Singing With Your Voice.”
> 
> Chapter title from NFWMB by Hozier

__

_Spring_

 

Damen woke with a start; his eyes focused on the white marble ceiling where streaks of the dawn sunrise played. But his mind lingered on his dream. Two sharp sapphire eyes sitting in a place face, looking at him with only hate.

He rolled over and groaned.

The door to his room opened and Phokas spoke, “Your highness?”

Damen waved a hand at him from the pillows, “I am fine, Phokas. No need to worry.”

Phokas nodded. “Yes, your highness. This one will have your breakfast prepared shortly.”

“Thank you. You’re dismissed.”

The door shut quietly behind him.

Damen raked a hand down his face. Despite their relationship becoming more platonic and losing that vicious edge that was there in Marlas, Damen did not know how he was to come to marry Laurent.

He knew logistically how it would happen. But he didn’t know how he could spend the rest of his life with someone by his side that he didn’t love. For a moment, Damen wondered if this was how his father felt before waving that thought away.

From all accounts, Theomedes was madly in love with his mother Egeria on their wedding day. But how could one only fall in love over correspondence?

As Damen rose from bed, he pushed all thoughts of love and marriage from his mind. There was still over five years left until the wedding, and besides. Laurent was still a child, not even fifteen.

Damen focused on the breakfast Phokas had laid out—fresh fruits, cheese, bread, and lean meat.

“Thank you, Phokas,” he said before reaching for the sweet bread.

Phokas bowed, “You’re welcome, your highness.”

Phokas sat on the small stool next to the door, he quickly picked up a brush and polish to begin working on one of Damen’s leather chest pieces.

Damen ate in the silence, focusing on the repetitive sounds of  brush on hide, pushing away any thoughts that were not lifting food to his mouth or planning his day.

He had a training to oversee, he had a meeting with a group of Taxiarhos to discuss reports and movements of troops, then a meeting with Kastor to go over finances in the capital. Kastor had more knowledge and experience when it came to finances, staring too long at the numbers that failed to cooperate always gave Damen a ghastly headache.

But throughout the day, anytime his thoughts drifted towards blonde hair or blue eyes he redoubled his attention on what he was doing—swinging a sword, reading a report, listening to Kastor tell a bad joke. It would do him no well to dwell on things that were to come or that felt like they were changing, he only had the present.

By dinner, he felt mentally exhausted pushing away those thoughts that at first he thought was was hallucinating when he saw a waterfall of blonde hair across the feast hall. But then his eyes focused and he saw that the flowing golden locks belonged to a tall woman wearing a elegantly pinned peplos with a beautifully simple golden cord cinching in the middle.

Damen’s eyes snapped to the others sitting at her table and recognized them as minor nobles from northern Sicyon. Was she someone’s wife? Sister? Daughter? He could tell from the pinning of her peplos that she was an Omega, but nothing gave away anything else.

“Damen,” his father’s voice caught his ear, forcing his eyes back to the royal table. “Did you happen to read that report from Dice? What did you make of it?”

“I think we should some troops from Mellos to assist Dice after the wildfires. Dice is the only landlocked state and will not be able to easily replenish resources from fishing like the other states.”

Theomedes stroked his beard, “You make a good argument. Kastor, your thoughts?”

Damen listened as Kastor voiced a plan that involved relocating the worst of the afflicted, but his eyes and thoughts wandered back to the mystery Sicyon woman. Dinner passed in such a way, with him trying to focus on the conversation but his thoughts seemed so drawn to every flash of light on those fair curls.

He thought once that he saw Nikandros giving him a look, but his attention was called away by the Kyros of Ios.

“Your highness,” Nikandros started, as the left the feast hall.

“Nik,” Damen responded, catching the edge to Nikandros’ voice.

“I don’t believe I have to remind you that you are betrothed a Veretian Prince and the peace between the two kingdoms is tenuous at best.”

Then, Damen gave him a look. “I don’t think I know what youre talking about.”

Nikandros returned the pointed look. “Do not talk to that Omega.” He turned on his heel and headed down the hall.

 

That night in bed, Damen turned over Nikandros’ words in his mind. Had he been that obvious how beautiful he found the Omega?

Just because he was betrothed did not mean he was forbidden to take anyone to bed. Damen still regularly bedded the slaves in his harem, though the regularity of it had begun to slip as his military duties had increased. And the call of his parchment and pen sometimes was greater than the call to lust and sex.

But what harm could come from Damen having a simple tryst with this Sicyon Omega?

Words thrown in his face almost two years ago came flooding back.

_“If you think I’m going to spread for you while knowing you’re fucking anything that looks at you pretty like, you’re wrong, Damianos.”_

The Laurent who had said those words felt different than the Laurent who would send him bundles of parchment, laying bare thoughts and observations. Where the Laurent of the past would have found any contact between Damen the Sicyon Omega infuriating because of the disrespect of the agreement, but the current Laurent would be infuriated by the disrespect of his person.

Damen pushed away the thought of her the way he had pushed away thoughts of Laurent. Sleeping would be futile, though.

And he still had an unanswered letter from Laurent to tend to, and it needed to be finished in order to travel with Theophilius for the young prince’s fifteenth nameday. Damen had already chosen gifts to send to Laurent: a writing set made of gold with inlaid sapphires, another starburst necklace that would fit tight around his throat, and long thin silver and gold hair-pins that were popular with the Ladies in Akileos.

 

_“...The book you sent was Marvelous! I enjoyed the written histories as well as the stories included. I particularly enjoyed the story of the Oracle, I believe here in the North we would call a woman like her a Sibyl. Are there still Oracles in the South? There are not any Sibyls in the North, it is said that my grandfather despised the Arts and drove them all out of the North. But I am sure not everyone was driven away, maybe just from the capital…”_

 

_“...There are still Oracles in the South. There is one in the capital, I have not paid her a visit but my father has. The gods have their various plans for us, but I do not know if it would be beneficial to know even an inkling of what the future holds. I believe the book holds the story of a king who was told his grandson would kill him, and tried everything to stop it but it still occurred…”_

 

It was late into the night when Damen finally turned back to bed. As his head hit the pillow, he was filled with a resolve. He would not seek out that Omega. She was beautiful, but he had a duty to uphold.

 

But that did not stop the Omega from finding him. In the weeks that followed, despite his best efforts Damen learned more about her.

_Jokaste._

The word seemed to be on the lips of everyone. Almost everyone seemed to have something to say about her: her beauty, her intelligence, her grace. She had come to court, both in the place and the other meaning of the word.

She was looking for an Alpha to court her, bond her, mate her.

Damen had thought, upon learning this, that she would stay from away from him. He was a very publicly betrothed Alpha, one that had a peace treaty woven into the betrothal agreement.

But, it was like Jokaste showed up in every garden he went to, every quiet nook she seemed to pass by, or just further up ahead in a corridor. She was everywhere at once.

And she began to fill his every thought.

If he hadn’t already thought she was beautiful, the conversations around her would convince him.

_“Her hair is so silken, how does it have such a luster?”_

_“Her skin is unmarked by pox or sun. Like it is made of fresh cream.”_

_“Her eyes are as if you bottled the Ellosean.”_

It seemed half the time that it was Kastor who was waxing poetry about her. Their relationship had been healing in the months, a wound he didn’t even had began to fester.

Damen pointed a look at his elder brother.

“Kastor, why do you not just ask her father to court her. You are obviously smitten with her.”

Kastor shook his head. “Half of the Alphas in Ios have, and he has said no to all of them. Said that it is for her to choose the man that she wishes to be mated to.”

Damen swirled the wine in his goblet, not looking at his brother across their private dinner table in Kastor’s quarters. Damen had an inkling of exactly _who_ Jokaste was trying to sway.

 _But, she’s too late isn’t she?_ Whispered that part of him, that part that was pure Alpha. Jokaste may be beautiful, with flowing deep golden hair and smooth pale skin ( _Not as pale as Your Omega_ , that part of him whispered again). Even if his heart and body wasn’t tied to Laurent, his loyalty and word were. He was to marry the Veretian prince.

There was no mistaking Jokaste for a Veretian, she was all Akielon.

 

It was in all this inner turmoil and outer gossip before the solstice, that Theophilius returned carrying a letter from the young prince and a linen wrapped gift.

 

_“...Despite the festivities, Brother was able to get one of the keepers in the library transcribe a copy Songs of the Troubadour. Our copy is very old, but Mother always loved the songs and still has the court musicians play some of the songs on her nameday. She particularly enjoys the style of the canso, I like the sirventes style more. Brother says he is partial to the Pastorela, but what is the fun in those? Brother says I’m too young to understand the jokes…”_

 

_“...I don’t quite understand poetry myself. There are many poets in Akielos, but I never enjoyed reading them when there was more things to learn about running a kingdom.  But, I did find the Pastorela section quite humorous, as did my brother and father. When we do not eat in the feast hall, we usually gather for small dinners in my father’s chambers…”_

 

_Summer_

 

_“...We seem to only eat dinner in the feast hall. I usually take a mid-day meal in either Mother’s or Brother’s chambers. Mother and Father have been insisting I wear dresses and petticoats, but in this humidity I feel like I am drowning in the layers. I am sure the light weight of your linen chitons are so nice in the summer months…”_

_“...Your letter found me outside of the city, so it is not just the light weight linen I wear, but my military leathers as well. It is quite thicker and more taxing on the body than the ceremonial leathers you had made for my nameday. I brought your book of songs with me, and my soldiers also found the Pastorela section quite humorous, though the laughter was more in shock that a Northern book could hold such comedy…”_

 

Getting out of Ios had the same sensation of dunking his head in a basin of ice water. It pushed any and all thoughts regarding blonde Omegas out of his head.

Damen was able to focus on his troops, strategy, and easy tensions that had arisen in the Akielon countryside. Direct actions that had direct reactions. There was not time for social dancing that came with the court. No time for having to bystep offense or navigate pointed words.

But going back to the capital was like being shot with an arrow dipped in poison, for Jokaste returned to Damien’s thoughts like a sweet acrid perfume that would permeate your clothes after seeing a less than favorable relative.

It was stifling hot in the capital, unable to bear sitting in a closed meeting room Damen found himself in the gardens just outside his apartments. Beautiful fruit trees—fig, pomegranate—offered shade, and the cool marble walls offered some solace from the blistering heat.

It was there, that she found him.

Even though his back was turned, he could still smell her sweet Omegan scent—honeydew, ripened to fullness. When Damen did turn, he swallowed heavily. The dress she wore was made of such sheer organza that he could make out the dusty rose hue of her nipples.

She didn’t bow.

“Your highness,” she smiled sweetly.

“Lady Jokaste, I was just on my way out. Enjoy the garden.”

Her hand clasped his arm, a bold move. She looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Are you sure you don’t want to spend some time here with me, the breeze is nice.”

Damen sighed. “Lady Jokaste, you are quite beautiful but I am betrothed to the Prince of Vere. I won’t jeopardize the peace of the kingdoms for anything, I’m sorry.”

Jokaste had the grace to not look visibly angry. “I apologize, your highness, but I’m not quite sure I understand what it is that you are saying.”

Damen bit back a sigh. “I believe my brother, Prince Kastor, will be free from his advisors meeting later in the afternoon and will be his own personal gardens. He is quite receptive to beautiful things, and is currently unattached.”

Jokaste’s eyebrows rose barely a fraction of a millimeter, but Damen’s eyes tracked the movement.

“Very well, your highness.” She bowed in what could barely be considered a curtsey, and then disappeared in a swirl of ethereal white and honeydew scent.

Damen knew that this was probably just delaying a larger confrontation, but for now it gave him peace of mind.

He turned from the gardens, his mood now soured.

 

The weeks that followed were full of gossip about the budding courtship between Jokaste and Kastor. Kastor looked beyond smitten, and Damen couldn’t fault him for his buffoonery. Jokaste was a beautiful Omega, and if they married would give him more beautiful children.

But, Damen couldn’t help but spot her still giving him longing looks. That was sure to be a wedge in his and Kastor’s still tentatively healed brotherhood. The only way to prove to his unknowing brother that he had no interest in the Omega as to reaffirm his dedication to his betrothal to Prince Laurent, and to hopefully eliminate any chance of animosity brewing between them.

It was more than easy to sit at the small breakfast table in his chamber across from his brother, a battle strategy in plan. The newest letter stack from Laurent had come the afternoon before; Damen hadn’t even undone the cord binding the folded sheets together. But, by sitting it on an empty table corner, Kastor’s eyes would eventually be drawn to it.

“Yesterday, Damen, she wore her hair in this long braid with flowers tucked into each plait. It supplemented her scent to a magnitude I didn’t realize it could reach! I’m hoping this afternoon, she will let me take her on a walk around the grounds,” Kastor smiled, tearing apart a tangerine in his hands. “I did not think I would ever find a woman as beautiful and as agreeable as her, but alas I have been floored.”

Damen nodded, listening to his brothers words. He wiped his hands of crumbs and juices on the white linen cloth Phokas had draped over his lap when he sat. He wouldn’t sully the creamy color of the Veretian Envelopes.

“Lady Jokaste saw the bruise you had given me when we had sparred, and she looked so faint!”

His hands moved towards the stack, slipping the knotted cord free.

“Said it was thing to know I am a general in the military and another to see some proof that I am on the battlefield. Granted, I don’t think a skirmish with some Vaskian mountainmen would give me a bruise as wicked as the one you dealt.”

He slipped the topmost envelope free, revealing its contents.

“What have you got there?”

Damen looked up and then back down, a humm in his throat. “Prince Laurent’s latest correspondence. We write regularly.”

Kastor cocked his head. “The boy is what, fourteen now?”

“Fifteen, actually.”

“What could you possibly write about to one another?”

Damen smiled. “Oh, this and that. It used to be just brief descriptions of our days, but now we have earnest conversations about ourselves. I feel like I know more about him, and I feel like our marriage might be a happy one.”

Kastor nodded. “I still can’t believe you are to marry a Veretian. I know you are to, as I was there in Marlas, but it feels unreal.”

“I believe that is why we started to write, for it bridges that gap.”

Kastor gestured with one hand full of buttered honey bread. “Read me a bit, let me know more of your Veretain Prince if he is to me my brother-in-law in a few years.”

Damen scanned the letter, looking for an appropriate place to read to his brother.

 

 _“...I finally have Brother on my side about not wearing dresses. Father and Mother listen to him more than I, but they had to agree in this heat I should not have to be subjugated to wearing an upwards of a dozen layers of satin, lace, and whalebone, but as soon as the temperatures drop I am to be back in them. Mother spends the majority of the day in her chambers, so even she is not forced to wear the latest Northern style of dress that I have had_ forced _upon me. How often do you leave the city? I feel like almost every letter you write that you are not in the Capitol. I would leave to be able to leave the Palace…”_

 

Kastor had wide eyes by the end of the short passage.

Damen smiled cheekily; Laurent was not one to mince words in his displeasure.

“He seems very different than the boy I saw in Marlas. He really does not like those dresses?”

Damen shook his head. “No, he hates him. Prince Auguste told me himself when I was shocked to see Prince Laurent in riding britches the day we went into the forest. It seems every spring and summer his ire over the dresses comes back again. When he comes to Ios, I will not care if he wears the traditional Veretian Omega Garb or dresses as a Veretian Beta. Or, even, if he does adapt and wear Akielon chitons.”

“I remember how large those Veretian dresses were, I would not care to be under one unless I was in the woman wearing it!” Kastor let out a large hearty laugh at his own joke.

Damen chuckled, shaking his head at his elder brother’s juvenile humor.

 

After reading through all the pages over the following days, and listening to his brother’s ever growing infatuation with Jokaste, Damen finally found time to begin to respond to Laurent.

 

_“...My duties take me from the City fairly frequently. Usually a fortnight, sometimes longer depending on the reason. Here the sun beats down so hot that you will find people wearing thicker and more body covering clothing to help prevent solar burns and sun stroke. The Healers sometimes have to have sea water brought in and treated to help fill the wells and pumps throughout the City. It seems the sky will dry up and thus so will the soil…”_

 

_Autumn_

 

_“...Mother and Father have me back in the dresses. Mother is happy to see me in them when her attendants let me see her in her chambers. She tires easily, so they do not want her to over exert herself. Brother says that now after the Equinox he will take me hunting with him. I have only ever been on Royal Hunts—where every courtier of worth is trying to vye for Father’s attention. Being on a hunt with just Brother and the Guard will be a wonderful reprieve from the court...”_

 

_“...I remember the first hunt my brother took me on. It was just us, no other guards. Though, looking back, I was just a boy, there could have been guards trailing us to make sure we were safe. But, it is invigorating to not have to Perform, to just Exist. As I have grown older, I have tired even more of the theatrics that come with court life. When I am with my troops, I may be their leader but I am still a soldier…”_

 

If Damen thought Kastor and Jokaste’s romance was nauseous before, it reached a new level once the heat of summer broke. Kastor was intent on taking their courting to the next, more serious step: marriage.

Damen’s days were already filling with his own impending marriage, that he barely had time for his brother to discuss his own plans to approach Jokaste’s father. If her father accepted the proposal, it was still unlikely that Theomedes would approve of them to marry before Damen and Laurent did.

While the elder brother, Kastor was not the Crown Prince. Damen’s line had to be secured first. And Damen did not want to be there when Theomedes reminded him of the order of heirs.

But, what concerned Damen more than Kastor’s potential ire was Prince Laurent’s mentions of his mother. This was the second correspondence briefly mentioning that Queen Hennike was confined to her chambers. Just single lines, and then a quick topic change. Damen had to wonder what that could possible mean for Vere, and for Laurent.

 

Damen’s twentieth nameday celebration was one that would probably be louder and more jovial than those before. While he had been considered a man for a few years, his twentieth nameday would find him no longer a teenager. He stood almost a head taller than the other men his age, but now the older men—generals, kyroi, advisors—would see him closer to a superior than just an equal.

The gift giving section always filled Damen with excitement, apprehension, and maybe a tinge of fear. One never knew what Vask would gift.

Marika, ambassador of Vask, bowed before him, her auburn curls falling in a veil.

“Brother Akielos, as ambassador of Vask, I present a gift to Crown Prince Damianos,” She spoke.

Servants stepped forward with a large ornate Vaskian chest. Damen tentatively stepped forward to open it. It was filled in books written in Imperial Vaskian, something not everyone in the court could read. But Damen could.

“These books come from the Empress’s own collection, and she believed that the Crown Prince of Akielos might find them valuable in coming years.”

Damen smiled tightly. “Thank you, Ambassador Marika, for this gift.”

He gestured to his slaves to take the large chest of Omegan Erotica, his mind still reeling from the topmost book entitled _Seducing and Keeping the Omega_.

Ingmar, the ambassador from Patras, stepped forth. His long brown braid barely moved as he bowed before the Akielon Royal Family.

“Brother Akielos, as ambassador of Patras, I present a gift to Crown Prince Damianos.”

The servants stepped forth, presenting a chest filled with gold carved plates.

“These plates were made specifically to commemorate the two decades since the birth of Akielos’ Crown Prince.”

Damen nodded. “Thank you, Ambassador Ingmar, for this gift.”

Ambassador Prewitt, of Vere, stepped next.

“Brother Akielos, as ambassador of Vere, I present a gift to Crown Prince Damianos.”

Three servants stepped forth, each carrying their own version of the present. Silver tipped javelins, with—upon inspection—sapphires and rubies encrusting the bottom of the head.

“These javelins were handmaded by our Royal Armory, and can be used in both practical and ceremonial instances.”

“Thank you, Ambassador Prewitt, for this gift.”

 

Later, in the evening, Prewitt found Damen. Easily handing over the stack of parchment and turning after a bow.

 

_“...I wish leaving the Palace was easier. Brother was not able to take me on a hunt, and I surely doubt we will be able to for some time. It would have been a nice distraction, but gods know that distractions lead to nothing but heartbreak. And my heart seem to be almost breaking all the time now. Winter approaches, and while I miseried on about the heat, I don’t think this cold will be good for any of us…”_

 

Damen spent almost two weeks puzzling over the melancholic tones and vagueness when the news hit Ios.

Queen Hennike was dead.

Her rumored illness had finally taken her.

Theomedes was close to restrain Damen from jumping aboard a ship and taking passage to Arles to be there for Laurent, arguing that Ambassador Theophilus was enough for Akielos to send.

But it did not feel enough.

Their letters were all that Damen had to comfort his betrothed.

 

 _“...the news has come to Ios. I hope to have this finished by the time Theophilus boards The Euandros to the North. I had wished to come as well, but my_ father _said I could not. Just know I wish to be by your side during this devastating time. Know that despite these miles separating us, I am here for you…”_

 

_Winter_

 

_“…I cut my hair a week after. It was her favorite thing but I couldn’t bear to look at anymore. I regret it but I do feel unburdened now. It was almost beyond my waist in length, I think it was time. I heard that you like long hair, so hopefully you can forgive me for cutting it…”_

 

_“…I never knew my mother. There is a statue of her at the summer palace and the painting from my parents’ wedding, but I do not know what she looked like. I’ve only seen her through an artist’s eyes, hands, and brush. My wetnurse told me that I favored her, but now when I look at my reflection I can only see my father’s jaw and eyes…”_

 

_“...You know I loathe wearing dresses. It was something Mother was happy to share with me, but now I can’t stand the weight of the cage or the bustle at my back. Brother has been trying to help me to persuade father to let me dress in britches and hose like every other prince before me…”_

 

_“...I understand your kingdom gets much colder in the later seasons, but I have never understood why the clothing styles are complex. So many layers and elements, and it all indicates some kind of rank or social standing. A chiton is one piece of cloth that is pinned. So much easier…_

 

_Spring_

 

_“...But what if a pin comes out? Won’t you be exposed to all around you? … The woman with the curls I mentioned before spoke again on my wearing britches, as if her daughter isn’t wearing hand-me-downs (I believe I used that phrase correctly) from when my Mother first came to court…”_

 

_“...Here, we do not feel embarrassed as you with casual nudity. In the wrestling tournaments at Our festivals, we fight in the nude. If you walked into my encampment, you would be surprised how many warriors you would find the way the gods and their mother brought them into this world. … I do remember the woman with the curls, you would think she would learn...”_

 

_“...So, you are in an encampment. I had heard rumors from Brother that you were farther North than South. The man with the pinched nose was too busy at dinner ogling the woman with the mole’s youngest daughter and spilled duck sauce all down his front, and he had just been invited to sit with Brother, Father and I. Sometimes I wonder how one could become so distracted by another, but then I think of these letters…”_

 

_“...We have moved again, farther East than West. I am always amazed at how diverse the flora of my kingdom is. After my last correspondence we came across a field of lavender, and the farmers working to bring in their harvest. And I thought of you…”_

 

_Summer_

 

_“...Thank you for the jewelry. It matches the Beta clothes I wear now, the Omega clothes I wore before better matched your previous gifts. And thank you for the sprigs of lavender, it does not grow this far north; Brother agreed, I do smell similar to it. The color is so beautiful as well, I have had commissioned my tailor to make me a few coats of the shade. I will think of you when I wear them…”_

 

_“...You make me wish that we wore more than white here, so the flowers would not stand out so much. My soldiers called me crazy for bargaining with the farmers for a bundle of lavender. I carry it in my field trunk now, so I will have a piece of you when I am far away from home…”_

 

_“...Your flowers have caused quite a stir! Since I debutted my lavender coats, some of the Omegas in the court have brought the color into their wardrobes well. I’m thinking of having the tailor add embellishments to my cuffs, but our court has become a sea of lavender. Not quite unlike your fields…”_

 

_“...Your words make me want to travel North even quicker. Still, four years sit between us and marriage. I can’t help but to imagine you as that twelve year old barely presented boy that I met that week. When we meet again, I cannot wait to be astounded by the grown Omega that I meet dressed in white…”_

 

_Autumn_

 

Damen felt himself falling in love with Laurent’s words. The snide snippets about members of the court (Laurent was smart to never name anyone or mention specifics In case of interception).

Sometimes Damen could imagine the life between them. Laurent had been trained to be a diplomat and advisor before his designation presented itself and his studies took a different turn, but his letters still presented some political savvy and Damen wondered how it would help. He imagined war strategy with Laurent, knowing that the other wouldn’t let anything get in his way. But whenever he imagined Laurent reciprocating feelings he can only remember Laurent’s eyes full of hate and unshed tears.

He called his bedslaves less and less to his chambers, really only when one of his Omegas has a heat, because he wouldn’t let them suffer, or his rut comes. But his dreams are filled with blond hair and lavender.

 


	5. You are the reason I am smiling when there is nothing to smile about: An Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Peach" by The Front Bottoms

 

 

_Autumn_

 

_“...You can’t wait to see me in white? Will that be in breeches or petticoat? As much as I long for the day I see you again, I do not believe that it is enough to put on another dress. Though, if you are to wear a chiton--one of us will be in skirts at least...now that I’ve written that it feels mean. Take it as a poorly aimed joke. Brother says my jokes can be more pointed than poignant…”_

 

_“...I will be fine if you are in breeches--I’m sure this will be enough to argue with your planners and advisors. I will not be offended if you never wear a dress in my company. I thought it was a well done joke, L. Your jokes are actually funny, unlike some of the Alphas I know that just say the most inappropriate phrases and then guffaw as loud as they can…”_

 

_“...I hoped you enjoyed your gift. I wanted to send something that was not just another weapon, but still something as deserving and well thought of for my betrothed. Brother is the one who gave me the idea to have the oils made. Some can be used for polishing leather, others for the body. I picked scents I believe you would like, as well as one that would remind you of me…”_

 

 _“...It was a curious gift, and I believe the members of my court were more impressed in the glasswork of the bottles. I did enjoy that_ particular _scent. I am seeing if I can have some lavender bushes planted in my personal gardens. A small token to keep you here even when we are still so far off from the actual date. The gardners say they can’t plan them until next spring. A spring flower for a spring child…”_

 

_Winter_

 

_“...The gardens we have here are more of hedges and trees. Brother doesn’t like me walking the palace gardens by myself, something about unsavory acts happening between the greenery. I truly have no interest in any of the courtiers here, so I do not understand why I cannot walk there with at maximum one guard. I never feel alone here, always being shadowed by a guard or a chaperone…”_

 

_“...Here in the South you will have more freedom, I believe. Our marriage will place a seal of protection over you that no one would dare breach. It is a shame that your safety and virtue must be guarded so. In the South, Omegas can take just as much pleasure as any Beta or Alpha. I understand the frustration, though. I have a personal guard, but they stopped shadowing me as much after I proved I could disarm a man twice my size or age when I was but 12…”_

 

_“...Is sword fighting truly fun? Brother and my guards claim it’s quite invigorating, but I’m not sure as it has not been permitted for me to learn it. Brother convinced Father to let me take up archery this winter, but this feels more direct. A specific goal, a target, while for sword fighting you’re just hoping to hit your target where they’re unprotected…”_

 

_“...I think you would excel at sword fighting, it is all about strategy, technique, stamina, and ability. There are different moves, swings, and steps. It is one of my favorite sports, possibly just after wrestling. Which I am sure you would also label as boring or just brute force and no skill. It’s quite like chess, but faster paced and more hands on…”_

 

_Spring_

 

_“...Brother says I have taken to archery very well, and he’s trying to convince Father to let me learn some sword fighting. He’s spinning that I need to able to defend myself. I do not understand why it is consider unseemly or ‘immoral’ for Omegas to learn any type of combative defense...I’ve included some questions from our planners regarding the wedding. Preparations have already begun…”_

 

_“...There were a lot of questions. Some of which I did not have answers for and had to consult with our planners and stewards. I made sure to include a note that you are to wear whatever you please--dress or breeches or a chiton even. I do not care as long as it is you at our wedding. I wonder if there is anything in particular you would wish for your upcoming nameday? I am quite sure you are tired of just receiving jewels from me…”_

 

_“...I am quite happy with the jewelry you have gifted me, D. You have given me enough to where I can get away with only wearing your gifts as adornment. I quite favor the sapphires you gave me all those years ago. Maybe different gemstones? Greens, Purples, Reds, or Yellows. Easier to arrange outfits, no?....They have already started designing the options for what I shall wear to the wedding. Brother thinks I have another a growth spurt to go through, and I think I will enjoy the look on the tailor’s face when he realizes I have grown again…”_

 

_“...I did not stop growing until this last year. My tailor and the armory were quite that pleased that I have had to regularly recommission new clothing and armor. Unfortunately, the armor you gifted me is too small. I am considering new ceremonial armor to be made in the same style...I picked your gift with great care. I personally visited many different gem merchants in the city, and even outsourced for the Emeralds…”_

 

_Summer_

 

_“...Oh, Damianos! You did not have to send so many jewels! And so many unset pieces as well. My jeweler says that she can make me almost any piece with them. It was too extravagant! What will you force on me on my namedays when I am your mate? Whole islands? Orchards? Gardens? I should stop before you think I am giving you suggestions…”_

 

_“...I am just glad you enjoy them. If you wanted any of those things, I am almost sure I could make it happen. The closer it gets to your twentieth nameday, the faster I wish time would move. It feels as if this betrothal is neverending, and that I will always be bound to an Omega in another kingdom whose face I have not seen since the beginning of our betrothal. Whose voice I have not heard speak. I see your words on the paper, but I long to see you again. I wonder what you look like when you think, what you look like when you smile, when you’re happy, when enthralled in emotion...blast these days…”_

 

_“...It is not just you who longs and wonders, my betrothed. You say you have gone even taller, but all I can imagine was the towering warrior I saw those years ago. How much taller? Will you dwarf me in comparison? I wonder what your curled hair will feel like under my hands. How your Alpha scent is. You said I smelt of lavender, but I was barely presented and it feels like your scent is a dream of a dream…”_

 

 _“...People say I smell of sandalwood and sage. I am about six and half_ podes _in height, but I am unsure of what that measurement would be in Vere….[Addendum]: I consulted with one of the scholars here, and he said that my height would transfer to roughly just over six_ pied _, if that helps. How has your height increased? When we met you were just a wisp of a thing, if not fiery for it…”_

 

_Autumn_

 

 _“...I stand at five and half_ pied _, which in Akielon measurements I would be more than five and four-fifths_ podes _. Many here believe me to be ‘leggy’ and lithe, but I should surely look like a child standing next to your stature. Not to be bold, but now I can only imagine how large our children shall be. Will full grown men burst forth from my womb? Like your Goddess of Wisdom?...”_

 

_“...That Goddess also burst forth in full armor, do not provoke the Gods or they might be tempted haha. Infants are infants, my dear. If we have large babes, it will be as much your heritage as mine. If memory holds, your Brother and Father are of substantial height themselves...I have included a list of Required Events and Items to be given to your planners from mine…”_

 

 _“...Some of the events listed for the_ gamos _seem more involved than not. Truly multiple sacrifices, and cutting of hair? In Vere we have own customs, and our planners have quite a go of it trying to blend the two. I’m sure while you read this Ambassador Prewitt is desperately trying to convince a handful of your planners to come and work together in the planning to satisfy both kingdoms and both religions…”_

 

_“...You sneaky thing, having new ceremonial armor made for me. I had been putting off visiting the Armorer, and now I get to put it off even more! Do not be mistaken, though, I greatly appreciate the gifts. Yes, Prewitt has wrangled an advisor and a steward to come back North with him. It feels hardly real that the time has almost come...We still have many seasons to live through, my dear…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Something HIGHLY requested in last chapter's comments :x
> 
> Edit: in my brain Damen is 6’7” and Laurent is 5’11”. That puts Damen still a full head taller.


	6. Truest love, Void on fire, You have haunted my desire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back baby!!
> 
> Chapter title from "Pepsi/Coke Suicide" by Elivs Depressedly.
> 
> Listen, I know I listen to weird music.

__

_Winter_

 

_“...How could I resist having new armor made when you pointed out that you had outgrown the last set I had made for you. I cannot wait to see you wearing it someday...Father and Brother seem to be realizing that soon I will no longer be here in the North. It does not even feel real that some day my home will not be the same as my Father’s especially when there is so little time left..”_

 

_“...I would not keep you from your family if you wished to visit them for parts of the year. I miss the city and the Palace when I am gone for too long, and find it joyous to be home again. I hope that you’ll find the South to be hospitable and comforting. I know you will find it warm at least…”_

 

Damen found Laurent’s letter interesting. What did he mean by there was so little time left? Yes, there was still time until their union, but it read as if that was not what Laurent was hinting at. His mind wandered to years before when Laurent had made vague off handed comments regarding his mother. Little tidbits that pointed towards her being unwell long before she finally succumbed to whatever plague had her in its grips.

It seem right on the heels of this letter as well that news came to Ios that Crown Prince Auguste was taking over more of King Aleron’s duties. It was just the smallest whisper of rumor, one that was barely mentioned in the Advisor’s Room.

But it had Damen’s thoughts in a tailspin.

Damen had always know that someday King Aleron would pass and Auguste would assume the throne, the same way that Damen knew that about his father and himself. But it was never something he dwelled upon. That was a far off future, not one looming on the ever closer horizon.

The idea of their wedding was just now becoming more solidified in his mind as his letters had become filled with questions and descriptions, and one of their Advisors and Stewards leaving with Ambassador Prewitt to help plan in more detail for an Akielon and Veretian blended ceremony.

Damen couldn’t bear to think too long of what would happen if Laurent left Vere just before his father passed or, god forbid, after his father had.

Damen could not imagine being able to leave Ios if Theomedes passed.

These thoughts continued to plague Damen as he sat for a private lunch in his father’s chambers. His mind returned to the conversation at hand when Kastor angrily bit out, “Father, I just do not understand why Lady Jokaste cannot join us here for meals.”

“Kastor, I understand that Lady Jokaste holds your heart, but these meals are for family. And she does not hold any formal ties to our family.” Theomedes picked up his fork, effectively ending the conversation.

Hypermenstra sat quietly next to Damen’s father, her lips pursed and decidedly making eye contact with neither her son or King. Damen knew Hypermenstra’s feelings regarding Jokaste based on the absence of her comments.

He had no doubt that she had somehow found out about Jokaste’s previous pursuit of Damen before turning to Kastor. Their love affair was still as sickly sweet as ever, and Kastor was becoming increasingly more committed and serious about their relationship. Damen was sure he would have had a ring on her finger and an agreement drawn up with her father if Akielon law did not dictate that the Crown Prince or Princess must marry before any other royal child.

“Damianos,” Theomedes said, turning to his younger son. “My Advisors tell me you are just a few short months away from achieving the rank of Starategos.”

Damen nodded. “Yes, Father. Proving myself as a capable general has been one of the most gratifying experiences of my life. I’m looking forward reaching this next step in my military career.”

“You’ll be able to wear that new ceremonial armor when you’re promoted,” Kastor said with a shit eating smile on his face.

Kastor had become both bearable and almost unbearable the closer the wedding came.

“Yes, Kastor, I will be able to wear the new ceremonial armor Prince Laurent gifted to me on my last birthday.”

Theomedes gestured with his fork, “Tell me, what news do you have our Northern neighbors? I know you and your betrothed write like love sick children, but then I suppose you are.”

Damen bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from rising to his father’s bait. “You know the plans for the wedding are very much underway, what with Ambassador Prewitt taking Steward Hali and Advisor Valen with him back to Arles to make sure the ceremony blends both our laws and customs into one ubiquitous bond. Prince Laurent’s letters a filled with much the same, and specifically asking me my opinions on certain things.”

“What exact details does the Veretian Prince need your opinion on?” Hypermenstra’s voice caught Damen by surprise.

But, he took it in stride. “In Vere, apparently, Male Omegas are expected to dress and act almost the same was any designation of Woman would. Prince Laurent has always taken insult against being expected to wear dresses, when before his Presentation, he was expected to wear traditional Beta clothes. In the last few years, Prince Laurent has been allowed to shed the gowns for Beta style items.” Damen peeled the skin off of an orange. “But in the planning our wedding, it seems the Veretian planners have wanted him to wear a traditional Veretian wedding gown, when frankly I do not care if he is in a gown or breeches or, even, a chiton.”

“I remember, didn’t he once write to you that he detests all that ‘brocade and whalebone’?” Kastor laughed.

Damen smiled broadly. “Yes, every now and then the topic pops back up.”

Theomedes shook his head, “Well, at least I know you and your intended can at least hold a conversation.”

They settled back into their meal.

 

_“...I look forward to Winters that are not quite as severe here, but I think I may miss snow. We could also head the northern territories for the Winter months, I think our children should experience snow in Winter, just to get a taste of what their Omega parent endured for all these years…”_

 

_“...We have a Summer Palace that I spent much of my youth at, it is right off the coast and the cool ocean breeze is a relief. It will bring me great joy to take you there, and to have our children running through those gardens. The Capitol can get bogged down in with heat and people as merchants and traders flood the city streets…”_

 

The mild winter in the south was just turning back to heat, it was not quite spring yet. Damen had barely sent off his reply to Prince Laurent when another Veretian Messenger arrived at the palace.

It was mid-day, and all the advisors were piled into the Advisor’s Chamber. Damen and Kastor were sat on either side of Theomedes.

“Last harvest, we brought in a lower crop of figs and olives,” the Kyros of Thrace said, waving at the papers in front of him. “My residents and farmers are worried about what another low harvest will mean for the territory.”

Theomedes nodded, and signaled with a slight hand for the next Kyros to begin his grievances.

But before the Kyros of Dice could begin, the door to the Advisor’s Chamber opened.

“Exalted, I apologize for the interruption,” the Palace Deputy Steward Isidore announced, bent in half at the waist. “But we have a Royal Messenger.”

Isidore straightened and gestured for the persons behind him to step forward.

Usually, the messengers who delivered to Damen were disheveled, obviously at the end of a long journey. But this Messenger as well groomed and well dressed. Behind him stood an Akielon guard escort.

“Exalted King Theomedes of Akielos and esteemed court of Advisors,” the Messenger began in stilted and formal Akielon, pulling a white colored scroll from his bag. “His majesty King Aleron of Vere has officially invited you to attend the eighteenth nameday celebration of his royal highness Prince Laurent in the fifth month of this year in the Capital of Vere.”

The Messenger bowed again, not straightening until Theomedes commanded.

The room stayed silent until the Messenger, Isidore, and the guard were all dismissed.

“Who will attend?”

“They surely do not expect the Exalted to attend by himself.”

“Who would willingly go into the snake pit?”

“It is a measure of good faith for an official invitation to the Crown Prince’s intended’s nameday.

“We always send the ambassador and his group, what more could they want?”

“Father.” Damen’s voice cut through the clatter, all eyes turning to him. But Damen only looked to his father. “May I ask permission to attend Prince Laurent’s eighteenth nameday celebration as ambassador for Akielos. I will take with me a group of guards, as well as any other member of this council.”

Theomedes studied his son, his head tilted in consideration.

But Damen held fast. He had not seen Laurent since those days almost five years ago. He knew that Laurent was on the cusp of manhood, but he could still only imagine the child he had met. A new royal portrait would not be commissioned until his twentieth nameday, this would be Damen’s first chance at seeing the man he was falling in love with in person before the wedding.

“A few conditions, if you desire to go to Arles so greatly you may.” Theomedes smiled, it was still his King’s Grin, not the private one that he shared with his children. “You will be serving as the official ambassador of Akielos, and your actions will reflection not only yourself but our kingdom as a whole. You must take a squadron of your personal guard. You must also have two chaperones from this council, and must also have one with you when you leave your rooms.”

Damen nodded. It was all reasonable.

“And one more thing, my son.” Theomedes smile turned more into his Father’s Smile, “You must never be alone with Prince Laurent.”

 

Preparations for Damen departure for Arles began as soon as the council adjourned. He didn’t quite care about some of the logistics, his mind was swarmed with what he could gift his betrothed.

He had been sending gifts for all of Laurent’s namedays since their betrothal, but Damen felt a difference in the importance of the gifts coming from himself versus the ambassador presenting the gifts. It needed to have more impact.

Damen scoured through his recent letters with Laurent.

_“...Brother brought my favorite chocolates to our Solstice Celebration…”_

_“...on the fourteenth day of each month, the merchants come and I send my servants to buy as many candied fruits they can find…”_

_“...Brother isn’t able to ride with me as much anymore, but I have been able to convince him and Father to let me take the Guard out with me…”_

_“...It feels that I have read through every tome in our Library. I know that is not quite true, but how many translations of the same texts can I read? Or the dry histories of my forefathers?...”_

A plan began to form in Damen’s head.

The sweets were easy enough to come by: a medium sized chest stuff full of Patran chocolate, Akielon candied figs and peaches, and Vaskian sweatmeats. He had the chest custom made, lions and starbursts carved in a deep rosewood, the latches made of a sturdy polished silver.

Damen already had plans for a new saddle to be commissioned for Laurent; he knew his betrothed loved to ride, and was slowly being allowed back out on the fields by himself—albeit with a small guard accompanying him. It was to be made of sturdy black leather, with gold plated metal accents, and golden starbursts of Vere decorating the sides. The drawings the Royal Saddler had shown him looked promising.

The next few gifts were harder to plan for.

Damen knew he needed something opulent for a Prince, but also something personal for the two of them.

Kastor had dragged him to the Gladiator arena while he was still ruminating on gifts.

His brother elbowed him hard in the ribs. “Damen, look. They have a new lion.”

Damen shook his head to clear out the thoughts, the sport used to be his favorite. “A new lion? The last one had been reigning for a few seasons, had it not?”

“Yes, but you would have known he was getting too old if you had bothered to come with me the last few weeks.”

Damen rolled his eyes. “Kastor, you know I have been busy preparing for my trip. Could Lady Jokaste not have accompanied you in the meantime?”

Kastor knocked their feet together. “Lady Jokaste does not care for the sport, and does not provide the same riveting commentary that you do. But, then again, you are barely paying attention.” Kastor smirked, “What, is this gladiator not worth your attention because he doesn’t look like he can go a few rounds with you in the arena or the sheets?”

Damen huffed a laugh. “No, brother. I am sure he would make a formidable opponent and bed partner, I am just thinking about—”

“—your trip North, yes I know.” Kastor waved a hand at him. “How long do you and the advisors plan on working out every little detail?”

“It is not like any other embassy trip, Kastor. I am not trained to act as an official ambassador of Akielos, I have never been further into Vere than Marlas, let alone its capital. There is a lot to work out.”

“But, you’re more focused on the gifts you want to shower your omega Prince in.”

Damen sputtered, and Kastor gave him a sly wink.

As the new lion and gladiator face off, Damen brought the subject back around. “What did happen to the old lion?”

Kastor shrugged, popping a piece of fruit in his mouth. “Do I look like the Royal Gamekeeper, Damianos?”

Damen shoved his shoulder into Kastor’s, but the wheels were turning in the back of his head.

  


_Spring_

 

_“...A Summer Palace? That sounds, dare I say, romantic? Have a break from the main palace will be a dream. I don’t leave the palace here much, Brother has a small holding further south in our kingdom, but it will take many weeks to travel there, and I still would not have that much freedom. No doubt I would be required to take almost all of the Guard, as well as half of my personal staff and be under the watchful eyes of chaperones…”_

 

The final gift came to Damen as he read Laurent’s correspondence, trying to locate a thread of something personal to gift to his soon-to-be-wed Omega.

Family.

Laurent’s letters were littered with mentions of his brother and father, so familial Damen sometimes almost forgot they were Crown Prince and King. Almost.

Family meant the most, which meant that Damen’s final gift for Laurent’s eighteenth nameday had to mean the most as well.

Queen Egeria’s jewelry was revered, with many pieces buried with her in her crypt. But Damen had a handful he kept locked in his rooms. There was no nostalgia or memories attached to these pieces, no memory of the woman who died birthing him. But still he clung to these pieces for they were so important to her personal attire that they had been carved onto the marble statue of her in the gardens of the Summer Palace.

From one Queen Consort to the next, the bracelet and necklace that Damen had held onto would make the perfect gift.

He realized this in the days before their ship was set to sail. It was easy enough to have the gold polished and prepared for the long journey.

His letter to Laurent was usual in length, but he avoided giving exact details of his whereabouts. The Royal Messenger had responded that his presence would be at Laurent’s nameday celebration, but he did not need his exact travel plans transcribed and falling into the wrong hands.

 

_“...You will not lack for guards here, your safety means the utmost to me, but your movements will not be tracked. If you wish to stay at the Summer Palace for any months of the year, I would not stop you. I would hope you would not travel to far from my arms while here, if I may be bold. I cannot wait until I bring you South, and you see where our children shall grow…”_

 

The day they left for Arles, it was warm and bright in Ios. Damen had rarely used the Royal Ship, preferring to do his traveling around Akielos by horse. But traveling by the waters would save them over half the time it would take to have a full wagon train through the two kingdoms.

Damen stood on the edge of the boat, his hands resting on the railing above the side. Nikandros stood on one side, and the other Makedon. Makedon had been one of the most vocal about Damen _not_ going to Arles, that it made sense for him to be one of the chaperones. Nothing would get by the old general. Nikandros had been in Marlas years before at the signing of betrothal. He would be a familiar and friendly face to both Damen and the Veretian royals.

Despite it being Spring, new clothes were made in preparation for a journey so far north. The chitons that the Akielons wore were much longer, grazing ankles, and instead of sandals they all donned soft brown boots. They had himations made of thick wool as compared to usually only needing the longer chitons for winter in Ios. They had contacted a clothing merchant who dealt in Vere to make the clothes, and had inquired about needing actual cloaks but the merchant had claimed it would not be that cold in late spring to require one.

As the Ship left port, Damen was filled with nerves. In all the preparations for this trip, he had not taken a moment to truly absorb what was happening.

He was going to Vere. To Arles. To see Prince Laurent.

Their letters had taken on an intimate edge, but their correspondence was still vulnerable to interception. Damen had gotten better at reading between the lines, but there was still a phantom fear that this was all a ploy. Some rich plot to weasel into his heart and leave him bare for attack.

Damen pushed those thoughts from his mind, it would do him no good to worry and fret over what could happen.

 

The journey takes just over a week. Damen spends most of his time discussing possible battle strategies, current political issues, and hopes for the upcoming harvest with Makedon and Nikandros.

But he also watched the coastline of his country change the farther north they travel. Gone were the high cliffs and white sand beaches of the south, soon replaced by rock beaches. The water turned from the clear blue Damen had known his whole life to churning gray and black. The slight cool breeze the ocean had offered at the beginning of their journey turned into biting winds, and Damen was glad for their longer chitons and his thick wool himation.

The morning they were to dock at the port in Marches, Damen stood at the furthermost point of the ship, not exactly trying to see the place of their landfall, but also not just enjoying the end of the water portion of their journey.

Once making port, they would have almost a fortnight of wagon travel through the upper territories of Vere before reaching the far Northern capital of Arles. The caravan would travel at a slow pace, not the brisk march that the Akielon army led, but one to accommodate the mixture of soldiers, guards, and servants. If it was just Damen and his troops, they would be able to cross to Arles in just a week.

 

When they do make port, Damen sees a crowd of of Veretian commoners and merchants waiting for the Akielon royal procession.

Most in both Vere and Akielos were in favor of the union between the Crown Prince and the Second Prince. But as the wedding between Damen and Laurent grew closer, some of the dissenters still existed and were vocal.

But this group seemed to be mostly in support, or at least trying to lure them into buying from their merchant booths.

The ride from Marches to Arles was uneventful.

They do not stop at any inns or rest stops as not to cause any danger or bring attention to themselves. All members of the caravan rise at dawn and ride till dusk, making camp under the Northern stars.

Damen is glad that the soldiers came from his own troops as they are quicker at breaking down camp and scattering remains so the caravan cannot be tracked as easily.

Sleeping in a tent was as second nature to Damen as it was to sleep in his rooms in the palace. Nikandros sat on one of the fur covered chairs across of Damen.

“Are you ready, we should reach Arles by midday,” Nikandros asked before popping a piece of hard cheese into his mouth.

Damen evaded Nikandros’ question by eating a spoonful of his lentil soup. “I think the servants, soldiers, and guards have everything handled for arrival, don’t you?”

Nikandros gave him a pointed look.

“Damen, we both know that it is not what I am referring to.” He leaned forward in his chair. “I have spent the last years watching you moon over a new letter from Prince Laurent. I can hardly believe you haven’t hopped on your horse and hurried ahead of us all to see him first.”

Damen clenched his jaw, but not denying that he was having to battle down that impulse. “You heard my father, I am acting as ambassador. My actions are not my own, they are Akielos’.”

Nikandros grinned. “Every day on the battlefield, you actions are those of Akielos, but that does not stop you from taking unnecessary personal risks.

Damen flicked a chunk of his barley bread at Nikandros. “I do not, Nik. Besides, I prefer not to have the Veretian Royal Family believe that they are giving their young prince to some Akielon Alpha Savage.”

“And if we were traveling to your betrothed while not having to care appearances?”

Damen pursed his lips, knowing that his answer was already in Nikandros’ mind: he would race ahead, not wanting to waste a moment to get to Laurent.

 

The next morning, while servants fluttered around him, preparing him for the presentation that would surely take place once they reached the Palace of Arles, he fought down his nerves again.

Damen was a little shocked at himself, he was not one to wind himself up in anxieties. His sureness was a constant in every aspect of his life.

But his Alpha seemed to be pacing just under the surface. It wasn’t like when he felt his Alpha rise up during battles or athletic events. His Alpha felt tired of waiting. Jaded after the long wait.

Of not seeing his Omega.

Damen had found himself thinking of Laurent as his Omega and not just his betrothed more and more. His Alpha was certain, just from letters and faded memories, that Laurent was _his_.

He felt distracted the whole ride, knowing he would have to wrestle with his instincts during the entire time spent in Arles.

But.

Then.

There it was.

The magnificent Palace of Arles.

It was not tall and striking like the Veretian forts Damen knew; it was large and sprawling, with unifrom windows and tan walls. The road, the Kingsroad, turned to stone and the path was surrounded by unlit lamplights in the daytime. The large ornate gates opened wide, royal trumpeters playing them in.

There was a crowd of people, much like the one they encountered in Marches. But these were courtiers, more extravagantly dressed then he remembered years before in Marles. At the center of the crowd, on a daise raised higher than everyone around them, stood three figures. This, he remembered.

King Aleron’s long straight hair fell to his white clad shoulders, the silver of it glinting in the sunlight that poked out of the clouds. But it wasn’t as thick as Damon’s memory recalled from five years prior. Auguste is older as well, his golden hair tucked behind one ear. The outfit he wore was more ornate than five years before, more golden starbursts and brocade around the collar and sleeves. Damen knows that Prince Auguste basically is halfway on the throne at this point and he must look the part.

And then.

Then, Damen looks to the final figure flanking King Aleron’s side.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, but it still forced a quiet breath to escape his lips that was quickly covered by the clopping of the horses into the square. Damen tried to quickly recover and smooth is features out.

Prince Laurent was radiant.

There was no other way to describe him. The fractured images of a youth glaring at him were replaced. Replaced by this image a of a young man clad in blue and gold, his lithe legs wrapped in fabric and white hose. Damen had to stop the smirk that tried to form, because _yes, Laurent had won that battle about not wearing dresses_.

As their procession entered the courtyard, Damen dismounted his horse. His red himation fluttered from the movement, catching the barely there breeze. Damen kept his eyes on the King, but out of the corner of his eye he absorbed as much as he could about Laurent.

His golden locks fell just to his chin. Plush, full, pink lips sat below a strong and straight nose. Blue eyes framed by thick dark lashes. His jaw was just as square as his brother and father. But his high cheekbones were distinctly Omegan. Damen had seen many beautiful Omegas in his days, and it wasn’t just the knowledge that this one was to be his, but Laurent had to be the most beautiful Omega, no _person_ , that Damen had ever seen.

He looked less like a human and more like a statue carved by an old master of a god.

Damen forced himself to focus on the moment at hand.

“Our Brother Akielos,” King Aleron greeted him, his voice just as sharp and commanding as Damen remembered.

“Our Brother Vere,” Damen responded, his Commander voice speaking for him.

King and Crown Prince met on the edge of the dias and clasped arms.

“Welcome to Arles.”

 

Damen found that Veretian royal feasts were very different than Akielon, or even the ones that Damen attended in Marlas. Those had purpose, a meaning, structure.

Here, guests drifted from table to table. Laughter rose from every corner. Between one course and the next, everyone seemed to settle down but it was only for a moment.

Prince Auguste leaned over from his spot next to Damen, “The crowds only calm for the brief moment it takes for the entertainment to start.”

Beautiful men and women mounted a stage that Damen had overlooked.

If Marlas had been a fort that was full of opulence and unnecessary decor, than Arles was bursting at the seams with paintings, tapestries, ornate molding, rugs, gold and gems covering every available surface. It made Damen homesick for the simplicity of the white marble at home.

His mind could barely take in everything, so it was no surprise he had missed the rather large stage in the center of the room.

It takes only a few moments for Damen to realize that the entertainment were not just hired musicians but the Pets of various courtiers. The singing and dancing as entertainment was not new Damen, but he was a little unsettled by how... _sensual_ the performances were. In Akielos, the slaves who performed had only attention for craft, seeing the Pets not only sell their talent but their services was jarring.

Damen shifted his eyes to look over the crowd again. People were either rapt and paying attention, or again consumed in their own conversations.

He pulled his focus back to his table. The table was long and sprawling, fitted with as many officials and nobles as possible. On the side that didn’t sit Prince Auguste was Nikandros and Makedon. The three spoke jovially, Damen chipping in bits of his own.

The true reason he kept forcing himself to look at the performers, the crowd, his table fellows, was to keep his eyes from the guests farther down the table. It was as if a magnet was drawing his eyes to the glowing figure of Prince Laurent. His hair shown even under the candle light. He had changed from the reception, the dark Veretian blue was now a pale midday sky blue. Gold embroidery danced around the edges of sleeves, and flowed down his collar to his bodice. A kerchief swaddled his neck, something that was distinctly Beta. His whole demeanor and dressing seemed to be a hybrid of Beta and Omega.

Damen abruptly yanked his eyes away from the Omega, his father’s words echoing in his mind. _Your actions will reflection not only yourself but our kingdom as a whole. You must never be alone with Prince Laurent_.

Investing himself in conversation was the only way to avoid making an embarrassment of himself and Akielos.

Auguste, Nikandros, and Makedon are all laughing.

“Seven years ago we were all at odds with one another, but now here we are meeting as friends,” Auguste said.

Makedon threw back his drink. “You ran a clean line in Delpha.”

Auguste smiled bitingly, “And you a harsh one in Sicyon.”

“Border patrols are necessity but the least fun,” Nikandros chipped in.

“I don’t know, Nik, you seemed to have a lot of fun when we on the Patran border,” Damen nudged Nikandros.

Nik sputtered.

“What happened outside Patras?” Auguste asked, leaning in.

Damen feels himself easily falling into the conversation.

The feast comes to an end some time later, Damen fighting a yawn.

“Prince Damianos, General Makedon, Ser Nikandros, would you care to break your fasts tomorrow with me?” Auguste asked, the firelight low but his face still of wakefulness.

“That would be most pleasurable,” Damen answered, Makedon and Nik nodding along.

They stood from the table, and Damen could not resist himself.

He cast one last look at Laurent, and for the first time that night their eyes locked.

But Damen couldn’t decipher the look in Lauren’ts deep blue eyes.

Anger? Joy? Wistfulness?

He did not know.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at [TheLittlestCaptainAmerica](thelittlestcaptainamerica.tumblr.com)!


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